Science and Old Gods
by Karashi
Summary: "The world is indeed comic, but the joke is on mankind." In an AU where collecting the Dragon Balls is thought to bring disaster, it's up to Bulma and ChiChi to save Earth. A drabble-fic with an ensemble cast and eventual BV/GC. Updates sporadically. Cover art by batangbatugan from DA.
1. Semantics

**Science and Old Gods**

 **Disclaimers:** Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Z, and its respective characters belong to Akira Toriyama. I make no profit from this.

* * *

 **Semantics**

Bulma was twelve years old when she first heard about the legend. It was during a sleepover with the daughters of some of her father's colleagues. Someone (probably her) had the brilliant idea to tell scary stories. They spent most of the night huddled in a circle on Bulma's floor, passing a flashlight around and trying to scare the living daylights out of each other. Someone (definitely not her) began telling the tale of the Dragon Balls.

"They say, hidden somewhere in the four corners of the world, are the Dragon Balls. No one knows how old they are. Some say they're as old as time itself. No one knows where they came from. Some say they came from the void. No one-"

"-knows if they're really the balls of a dragon. Some say it's just from really big li-"

"Shut up! You're ruining the mood!" the girl gave the heckler a pointed glare amidst the giggles and snickering. The storyteller harrumphed at everyone for good measure before she continued, "No one knows why they're here. Some say they were a blight unto all living things because the first and only time all the Dragon Balls were gathered, the gods got angry and declared war. Explosions erupted all over the planet surface, the sky burned red for three days straight, and then a smaller sun appeared and crashed down, nearly tearing the planet apart! They say if you found a Dragonball, you would be cursed! Death and destruction will follow you and all those you hold dear."

"What does a Dragonball look like?"

Their storyteller faltered, clearly not expecting that question, "Err, like a ball, probably?"

"Is it colored green and scaly?"

"Wouldn't it be more pinkish and fleshy since the genitals of a lizard would be interna-"

"I don't think they're really the balls of a dragon," someone sighed tiredly.

"I bet she was about to throw a wadded up sock at someone while screaming _Look Out! It's a Dragon Ball!_ "

"Sh-shut up! I was not!" No one missed how the storyteller surreptitiously tried to hide something behind her back. Everyone burst out laughing.

When they calmed down some, Bulma frowned in disappointment, "That was a stupid story not a scary story. I mean, there's only ever been one time all the balls were gathered since they were made? And even then, why would the gods get angry about them being all in one place?"

"I dunno, the version I heard is that just having all the balls together isn't enough to cause the whole catastrophe thing," the heckler shrugged. "I heard you needed to make some sort of sacrifice to it in blood or something icky like that. And _no_ it's not to replace the dragon's lost balls. It was funny the first time, don't wear it out okay?"

"How would just having one curse you, though?" Bulma pressed, as fascinated with the idea as she found it ridiculous. "And why would anyone gather them if it means destroying the world?"

"The same reason anyone wear stripes with plaid," another girl scoffed, "Some people are just crazy. And you can't really expect crazies to make sense."

Most of the other girls saw the logic in the reasoning and quickly dismissed the legend, all thoughts of world-destroying god-wars forgotten in favor of the next attempt at a hair-raising tale. But Bulma was not like most girls. She merely filed the legend away for another time and focused on the girl talking about guts and gore and axe-wielding lunatics crashing pteradons into bedrooms.

* * *

Bulma was sixteen years old when she thought about the legend again. No, that was inaccurate. She thought about the legend but in an on-and-off way, something to distract herself while giving her brain time to percolate on the real issues she was currently tackling. But she was sixteen when she truly gave the Dragon Balls serious thought.

She'd finally started her internship at Capsule Corporation and was admiring herself in the lab coat her mother had given her, dreaming of the day she'd become Capsule Corp's youngest ever vice-president and then its youngest ever president. The lab coat was one of her father's and it was a bit big on her. But she wore it well, even with the worn patches over the elbow and the claw marks from countless generations of Scratches. She slipped a hand into one of the inner pockets, mimicking her father's thinking pose and her fingers brushed against the smooth surface of a capsule.

Huh. What could this be?

She pushed down on the plunger and after the smoke cleared, there was another capsule waiting in its place. She decapsulated that only to find _another_ capsule. This went on for several more times. She wondered who would go through all the trouble of arranging this nesting-doll setup until she lost count of how many there were. All she knew was that there was a sizable pile at her feet and that she was simply working on automatic, because she was determined to get to the bottom of it, Kami damn it!

Bulma suddenly felt the plunger resist her efforts. She tried again but the capsule remained locked. "This has gotta be the last one!" she decided, studying the pellet in her hand much more closely. Beneath the handwritten label of _Dragon Ball: 2S,_ small dials lined the capsule's circumference. Blue eyes widened as she whispered "A Dragon Ball? But how?"

Before she could fiddle with the numbers her father called out to her, "Bulma? Do you have my lab coat? Your mother said you had it."

When he came into the room and caught sight of the discarded capsules, Bulma couldn't recognize the hard, haunted look that crossed her father's face. "Poppa?"

He held his hand out to her and forced a brittle smile that showed too much teeth. "Bulma, give me the capsule. Give it to me _right now_." His voice was tight with terror and without his lab coat to shroud his body Bulma could see him trembling in panic. She'd never seen her father like this. It made his fear contagious.

She glanced down at the capsule she was studying just seconds prior and felt a sense of power pulse through her. It buzzed along the surface of her palm, tingled up her arm, and straight into her head. When she handed it back, the tension faded though it didn't completely leave father or daughter. She opened her mouth to ask what that was all about but Dr. Briefs held a hand up to silence her.

"Now's not the right time, sweetheart. When you're older I'll tell you more about the thing inside."

Then he was back to his usual cheerful, absent-minded self, whistling a little tune while he began the tedious process of encapsulating.

Now most people, after having felt that strange power would have left well enough alone. But Bulma Briefs was not like most people and the odd thrum of energy had set her mind abuzz with ideas. She had to know more about these Dragon Balls now that they weren't mere legends. And if she couldn't study the one her father had, well, what's to stop her from finding one of her very own?

* * *

 **A/N:** I've been binge-reading drabble fics lately (hnnnng _Pandemic_ and _Beyond Empty Lands_ wry u play with my feels like that?) when suddenly this plot-bunny just Leo-strut its way into my consciousness. So here you go: A different take on the way the world views the Dragon Balls. Why? Because I am a pretentious twit playing at philosophy, maturity, and wisdom. I mean because why not?

Dedicated to the google+ community _We're Just Saiyan_ for the wonderful discussions, fic-sharing, and their all-around awesomeness. If you haven't already joined, what are you waiting for? Reviews are loved and appreciated!


	2. Kinetics

**Warning:** Some violence ahead.

* * *

 **Kinetics**

Bulma worked with feverish inspiration, drafting, designing, and building as if possessed. Whatever it was her father kept inside that capsule, it had awakened something in her, something that had always been there and just needed the right channel for release. Two days. That was how long it took for her to finish her invention: the dragon radar.

And when she activated it, she instantly caught a signal! Well, three actually. The strongest came from "Somewhere to the north," she murmured, pressing down on the buttons to adjust for scope and breadth. Except she'd reached the very limits of her radar and North was all it would show. "Hmph, that one's too far away to get. Let's see about the a closer ones... hey where'd they go?"

Blue eyes narrowed irritably as the other two signals seemed to have disappeared. It took several seconds of button mashing until she realized the first signal was all but masking them.

"Okay, filter _that_ signal out, limit the detection range within a couple hundred kilometers from here and... bingo!" After she determined which of the two remaining signal was coming from her father's capsule, the heiress got ready and packed her things.

She was going on an adventure!

* * *

Five days ago, Bulma had declared at the breakfast table that she was putting her internship at Capsule Corporation on hold to go on a month-long Scientific Expedition. Dr. Briefs was happy to hear his little girl was planning on remaining a little girl for a little longer, so he and his wife bade her good bye and wished her the best. They were confident in their daughter's tenacity and in the fact she brought enough encapsulated supplies to last a year around the world.

He hadn't heard from her since and didn't know where she was. Which was for the best. Because it meant, when the three-eyed man asked him for the whereabouts of his daughter, Dr. Briefs could honestly say he didn't know and would give no physical indications that he was lying.

The triclops still stabbed him anyway, missing the old inventor's heart by a fraction of an inch before asking his companion, "Is he telling the truth?"

"He is," the floating, deathly-white child nodded, eyes closed.

"Where did you move the Dragon Ball?" the three-eyed man softly demanded, drawing his arm back but leaving the blade embedded in Dr. Brief's chest.

"How can you be so sure I moved it, son?" the old man patiently smiled through the pain and the thin sheen of cold sweat forming.

"I can only sense faint echoes here," the child said.

"You can sense-"

"That he can," a mustached man with dark, braided hair said. The triclops and the child stepped back, bowing to their leader who sneered at the inventor, "So you can drop the whole ignorant professor act. If you want your daughter to live to see another day, you'll tell us where you've hidden the Dragon Ball."

"There's no need to resort to drinking lizard testicles. I know a specialist that can help you with that problem," Dr. Briefs said in between coughing up blood.

"Hilarious," Mustache droned and with practiced ease, broke one of the old inventor's arms. "Tell us where the Dragon Ball is."

"D-don't know what you mean," Dr. Briefs gasped, clutching at the fire in his arm.

"Tien."

"Yes, Master Tao." The triclops broke the other arm and didn't so much as bat an eye at the agonized scream that tore through Dr. Brief's throat.

"Come now, Doctor, I already did you a kindness in killing your wife quickly and painlessly. I was willing to grant you the same death but alas, you've forced my hand." Tao pointed at the weapon currently embedded in Dr. Brief's chest. "This particular wound isn't immediately fatal with the blade acting like a cork. But if I were to pull it out, you'd have about, oh, fifteen minutes before you bleed out. If you want to live, I suggest you tell us where you've hidden the Dragon Ball."

"No," Dr. Briefs gurgled, slumping boneless to his knees with both of his arms hanging useless at his sides.

"Stubborn fool." Tao smirked, smoothly pulled out the blade and absently tossed it to Tien as a veritable torrent of blood gushed forth. "No matter, I'm sure when we find your lovely daughter, she will prove to be useful my employers. If not in mind then in body."

Dr. Briefs froze for one chilling instant at the horror of his daughter being found by these men. But even as his blood soaked into his lab coat and the numbness of blood loss spread through his body, he knew he couldn't think as a father. He closed his eyes, hating himself even as he smiled ruefully, "You have no idea what my lovely daughter is capable of."

"Master Tao!" the small, floating boy suddenly squealed.

"What?" Tao snapped.

"I can sense the Dragon Ball!"

The inventor's head snapped up with a sudden surge of adrenaline, eyes wide in disbelief, and croaked out, "H-how is that possible?"

"Well? Where is it, Chiaotzu?"

Lavender brows knitted in confusion when the one called Chiaotzu pointed towards the mountains and declared, "Somewhere over there."

"Can't you be more specific?" Tao snarled but strode out with his arms folded behind him, all the while he muttered, "Of course you can't, if you could we wouldn't have to waste our time interrogating know-nothings."

The three left without sparing Dr. Briefs, or the corpse of his wife, a backward glance.

* * *

Bulma thought back to how the rumors and legends never really described what the Dragon Balls looked like. They were usually just referred to as _cursed artifacts_ or _spheres of total destruction_. Vague and mysterious and useless as fuck when you were actually looking for them. She wasn't sure what she expected a Dragon Ball would look like. Maybe it was plated with scales, I mean why call it a _Dragon_ Ball? Maybe they had their own unique texture and were the size of a bowling ball.

It was, she discovered, orange, glossy, and about the size of a baseball.

"This is it?" she snorted, unimpressed. It didn't look like it would curse anyone who found it. And when she touched it, there was no buzz of energy at all. Maybe she just imagined it the first time around. The sight of her father so distraught must have affected her more than she thought.

At least she had the validating experience of learning that her radar worked _extremely_ well. She'd prepared for a month-long journey in search of the nearest Dragon Ball and she found it in three days. When the trip back home took only two days, Bulma, for a moment, seriously considered continuing on her quest. Because why stop at just _one_ Dragon Ball? The legends said that the problem was when _all_ the balls were gathered. And if the five stars in the small sphere she had in her satchel meant anything, she could gather at least two more without worry.

She brought her air-car to a halt on a bend of mountain road overlooking the sprawling grounds of Capsule Corporation. The blue-haired teenager got out to think over her options and leaned against the side of the car. It was tempting, _very_ tempting because she still had so much supplies. But on the other hand, she wanted to study the Dragon Ball and she would need her lab for that.

Speaking of lab, she wondered what her parents were up to. From her vantage point she'd have no trouble sneaking a look. She brought out her binoculars, impishly grinning as she checked up on her parents. When the lawn proved empty, she increased the magnification and scanned the house, nearly dropping the binoculars when she saw her parents. Her mother had a hole where her heart should be and her father was on his knees with a knife sticking out of his chest!

Then she saw _them_. Two men with a red insignia embroidered on an armband. There was a sense of movement from the man with long, braided dark hair before the knife practically materialized in the tall, bald one's hands. She tasted bile in the back of her throat at the sight of all that blood. The pair turned towards –holy shit, was that a little kid? What the fuck? Peering closer it looked like the kid was... pointing right... at her...

Bulma lowered the binoculars for a second, brought them back up, and saw the three had vanished.

Some primal sense of self-preservation screamed at her to get the hell out of there. She scrambled into her air-car and drove off at full-throttle, taking the shortest possible route to Capsule Corporation.

"Momma! Poppa!" she cried out, spilling out of her vehicle while tears spilled from her eyes.

Her father was barely clinging to life when she knelt by his side, he was so cold and so weak. _Kami there was so much blood._

"C-capsule in my c-coat li-lining," he wheezed.

"Poppa stop talking! Save your strength!" she sobbed. "I'll bring you and momma to the hospi-!"

"'S too late. T-take capsule. C-code is your birth-day. So-sorry, broke my promise sweet-heart."

"Don't say that, Poppa! Don't leave me!"

"N-not safe here. Go East. Mount Paozu. Find Son Go-" And he was gone.

* * *

 **A/N:** Well... that escalated quickly. In my defense, Tien and Chiaotzu were originally bad guys in the Dragon Ball manga until Master Roshi and Goku beat some sense into them.


	3. Assimilation

**Assimilation**

ChiChi was thirteen years old when she became an older sister, although technically she became a _younger_ sister but with the way her new sibling sometimes acted it was hard to remember who was older than whom.

It all started when her father, Ox King, came home one day after a patrol of their kingdom's borders. He brought back with him several rucksacks filled to the brim with capsules. But at the time, the dark-haired princess was more interested in the blue-haired girl her father was carrying in his arms. She clearly wasn't from around here and looked just a little older than ChiChi.

In normal circumstances, ChiChi was shy and timid around strangers, especially outsiders of their small mountain kingdom. She would have simply stood in the sidelines, letting her fierce-looking father do the talking and asking. But one look at the blood-soaked lab coat that the unconscious girl wore had ChiChi going into nurse mode on instinct.

She had her father bring their guest into a spare bedroom, "I'll handle undressing her, dad. Could you boil some water in the meantime?" It wasn't difficult holding the unconscious girl up so she could change her out of the bloody garments and into an oversized nightshirt. ChiChi was stronger than she looked.

 _Well that's strange_ , she thought, _Lots of bruises and tons of scrapes and cuts but you don't get_ this _much bleeding from just that._ The lab coat had a thin tear in the chest and the lining was ripped, but apart from that and the blood stains, it was salvageable. She'll patch it up later after she's washed it and the rest of the older girl's clothes.

* * *

Ox King had just finished cooking dinner when he heard a thud and a yell of pain. His daughter bolted from her seat at the dining table towards the guestroom to check up on the blue-haired girl. He figured it was best if he let ChiChi handle things not because he couldn't be bothered but because, well, he was Ox King.

Many found him intimidating, if not outright terrifying, at first glance. And his ferocity in battle, sheer brute strength, and the way he was pretty handy with his battle axe allowed him to remain ruler of their little kingdom in Frypan Mountain for so long. He was probably not the first choice anyone (who wasn't his daughter) would want to see upon waking.

He looked up from the pot of stew when his daughter's normally timid voice took on a hard edge, "Hey! You're too injured to move, get back in bed!"

"Says _you_ , squirt, I am totally fi- _**OW!**_ "

Ox King winced, whoever that blue-haired girl is, her voice really carried. He turned the stove off and padded, deceptively quiet for such a large man, towards the guest room. In the hallway, he found ChiChi kneeling over the prone form of their guest who was bandaged up to comically excessive proportions.

"Where does it hurt?" ChiChi asked, frowning.

The blue-haired girl sniffled and wiped at her eyes, wincing in pain from the movement before answering petulantly, "Everywhere."

"Can you stand up?"

Another sniffle. "I don't think so. I think I broke my leg."

"It's just a bad sprain," ChiChi corrected. "But I can carry you back to bed if you-"

"If you can carry me to bed, you can carry me to my damn air-car because I can't stay here!"

Ox King saw the hard determination in the older girl's eyes. He saw the stubborn protectiveness in his daughter's eyes. And he knew this was not going to end well unless he provided a distraction, "Girls, dinner is ready. ChiChi, please carry her to the dinner table. I'll set an extra place."

The injured girl opened her mouth when her stomach suddenly growled out so loudly it drowned out her protest, settling that matter for all parties involved. The two girls sat across each other, glowering in righteous indignation until the blue-haired one had a mouthful of stew and dreamily sighed, "Kami this tastes like heaven."

"My dad is the best cook in the world," ChiChi agreed with pride.

"Oh come now, you two are going to make me blush," Ox King laughed. He ladled another helping of stew into the older girl's bowl and asked, "What's your name, dear?"

"Bulma Briefs," she answered, suddenly tensing. Quickly, she kept on talking, "U-um, who are you?"

"I'm Ox King and this is my daughter ChiChi. You're welcome to stay at our home until you've recovered from your injuries."

"Th-that's really kind of you, but I _really_ have to be go-"

"Even if it wasn't already dark, you won't get very far on a sprained leg without your air-car," ChiChi cut in. "Dad said it had crashed."

"I have more than one air-car," Bulma scoffed. "Just give me my capsules and I'll be on my way."

"Where are you going and why are you in such a hurry?" his daughter demanded, visibly unhappy that her patient was being an uncooperative one.

Ox King didn't miss the undertone of desperation in Bulma's voice when she answered, "I need to get to Mount Paozu as soon as possible."

"To meet up with your mom and dad?" ChiChi assumed.

The light dimmed in Bulma's eyes and she hung her head, mumbling "They're both dead."

"O-oh! I-I'm so sorry! I didn't know!"

Ox King remembered all the dried blood on her clothes. "Are you running from someone?"

The wide-eyed terror on Bulma's face said it all. But she took a deep breath and described three people and the one unifying trait among them: "An armband with a red insignia."

When she drew the symbol onto the table, ChiChi only tilted her head. Ox King, on the other hand, grimaced because he recognized, _The Red Ribbon Army._

Neither ChiChi nor Ox King pressed her for more details, instead they assured her, "You're safe here on Frypan Mountain. Stay as long as you need."

"Wh-why are you being so kind? You don't even know me," the blue-haired girl whispered, tears trickling down her cheeks.

Ox King felt himself swell with pride when ChiChi laughed, "Because it's the right thing to do." His little girl was going to be a great benevolent ruler when she came of age. He only hoped his future son-in-law would be just as compassionate. If not, said future son-in-law better pray Ox King had passed on because he wasn't going to hand over his daughter otherwise.

* * *

"Hey, ChiChi?"

"Hm? What is it?"

"S-sorry about earlier," Bulma apologized.

"What are you sorry for?" ChiChi canted her head at the older girl.

"I shouldn't have called you a squirt. I mean, you're not _that_ short and you're probably still growing."

"Oh. I thought you were going to say sorry for acting reckless even though you're injured," somehow ChiChi managed to say this without a trace of sarcasm. "I forgive you."

"Great! Um, just out of curiosity, where are all my capsules? A-and my satchel?"

"Dad put your capsules in the closet. I placed your satchel," ChiChi pulled out the drawer on the bedside table, "Right here. Oh but if you're looking for your weapon I had dad hide that in the armory. It's dangerous to carry a gun."

"Please, it was only a semi-automatic machine gun," Bulma waved her hand dismissively and winced. "Augh is there no part of me that _doesn't_ hurt?"

"You should count yourself lucky that you only have sprains rather than broken bones."

"Capsule Corporation takes safety very seriously." Bulma was practically preening, though ChiChi didn't know _why_ the older girl was acting so proud.

A beat.

"Can you bring me to my air-car's crash site?"

"What?! Why would you-"

"I wanna salvage it for spare parts. I know I look like a beauty queen," she glanced down at all her bandages and made a face, "Usually, but I'm also a genius. If you got any appliances on the fritz I can take a look at them while I wait to heal. Otherwise I'll end up thinking about _them_ and..." Bulma trailed off, a shadow crossing her face.

ChiChi couldn't bring herself to refuse so she relented, "We can go after breakfast. I'll ask my dad where he found you."

"Great! Let's bring lunch too! We can make it a picnic!"

"O-okay, that actually sounds fun." ChiChi smiled. Even if Bulma was proving bossy and stubborn and a little full of herself, ChiChi liked her.

She headed out of the room, instructing Bulma, "You better get some sleep soon. Breakfast is half past five."

Ox King was in his bedroom on the other side of the house and he still heard the blue-haired girl's scream of "FIVE IN THE MORNING!?" Kami, the girl's voice really carried.

* * *

 **A/N:** In my headcanon, ChiChi is as much a mama bear as she is a tiger mom because the two aren't mutually exclusive concepts. Apologies for the wonky pacing, I'm just learning to juggle an ensemble cast. Hopefully I'll work out the kinks as I keep writing.


	4. Inertia

**Inertia**

"Are you _sure_ that's supposed to be armor?"

"I always wear this whenever I go out on patrol."

The armor, as it turns out, looked less like protective wear and more like something you'd find on the cover of a swords and sorcery book. Though Bulma had to admit, ChiChi looked good in the armor-bikini and she definitely rocked the cape. Even if the finned helmet looked like it belonged to an entirely different outfit it sort of completed the whole ensemble.

Bulma eventually learned that the helmet was really the pièce de résistance when ChiChi abruptly jerked their hovercycle to a halt.

The dark-haired girl held a finger to her lips with one hand while the other pointed towards bits of broken foliage that apparently was supposed to mean something but damn if a city girl like Bulma knew what.

 _Poachers_ , ChiChi mouthed then gestured for Bulma to stay put.

With her gun still locked up in Ox King's armory and her muscles still swollen in some parts, Bulma didn't protest. Though she tensed a little when the younger girl disappear into the undergrowth. After what felt like years to the former heiress, she heard rustling.

But when the foliage parted, it was a man armed with a gun and dressed in a military uniform. He leered at the terrified teenager, "Lookie what we got here, c'mon outta the 'cycle, girlie and-" was cut off by a scream of pain. Seconds later another man, wearing the same uniform and sporting several deep gashes, came running through the undergrowth with a hail of green beams hot on his heels.

One of the laser blasts disarmed the gunman. Literally. The two men were quick to retreat and leave a rather bewildered Bulma still seated in the hovercycle.

ChiChi burst into view, breathless and with blood on the fin of her helmet. "Are you okay, Bulma?"

The former heiress nodded, staring at the younger girl in what may have been awe.

"I'm so relieved!" ChiChi sniffled and began to wipe at the tears in her wide, dark eyes. "I was so scared you got hurt because I left you alone."

"H-hey c'mon, I'm not that helpless." A beat. "Okay maybe while injured... but never mind that! You. Were. Amazing! Where were you keeping that laser?"

ChiChi blinked in surprise at Bulma's reaction but a gloved hand pointed to the gem mounted on the helmet.

"Can I have a look-see?" and Bulma was already reaching out, blue eyes glittering in curiosity.

Reluctantly, ChiChi handed her the helmet, "Careful, the blade's really sharp."

But Bulma was too busy angling the headgear this way and that, studying the cap and the fin and the gem (especially the gem), asking a million questions for answers that she seemed more interested in learning for herself rather than hearing from ChiChi. "Where is the power source? I can't find anywhere you can put it in. How do you activate the laser? Can you shoot it if you're not wearing it? Are you the only one who can work it? What kind of gem is it? Or the helmet for that matter? Is it the same as your armor?"

"Um..." ChiChi fidgeted, feeling very exposed without her helmet. "I don't know, I've always just been able to use it."

"We need to get this to my dad's lab! He has the best tech and tools to analyze... no, wait, we can't." she remembered, and handed the helmet back to the younger girl. "Not anymore."

Bulma didn't say a word for the rest of the trip.

* * *

By the time the two girls returned to Ox King's mountain home, it was nearing sunset. Bulma was seated directly behind ChiChi this time. The sidecar was filled to the brim with scrap metal, all sorts of mechanical parts, and the rest of the undamaged capsules that Ox King missed when he first found the blue-haired teenager.

ChiChi was helping Bulma drag the air-car's engine into the living room when she called out, "Dad, we're back."

"That's good," her father smiled, sounding relieved. More so than usual. "Did anything unusual happen today?"

"Um, we ran into some poachers," ChiChi admitted.

"And ChiChi sent them packing! You should have seen her!" Bulma grinned without looking up from the engine she'd begun to dismantle.

"Dad, your arms!" ChiChi gasped at the numerous bruises that were darkening to purple. "What happened?"

"Ah these? I just protected some of the villagers from a rock slide," he tried to wave his hand dismissively.

"Let me get some of my salve," she declared, switching into nurse mode. "Bulma needs some applied to her sprains anyway."

"I'll go and start preparing dinner," her father declared.

With ChiChi out of the room and Bulma busy tinkering, neither girl saw the grimace on Ox King's face nor how he tightly clutched at his ribs when he turned to head to the kitchen.

* * *

Bulma knew she can't stay here much longer. The temptation was too great. If she let herself stay another day, she would probably find an excuse to stick around like showing her gratitude or repaying their kindness. She'd seen the state of some of Ox King's vehicles, Kami they sorely needed an upgrade. And their appliance could stand some optimization. Let's not forget the kingdom's so-called ultimate "Firewall" defense (a literal wall of fire utilizing some of the natural geothermic energy of Frypan Mountain) could use a safety overhaul. But that would take days, weeks even!

She had to get to Mount Paozu and fast! Who knew how far behind the trio that killed her parents were? She couldn't risk the safety of anyone else.

So after dinner, she convinced Ox King to give her back her capsule supplies. "To take inventory," she explained. And to her dismay the capsules she'd lost contained practically three fourths of her toiletries, clothing, and the more luxurious models of capsule houses. The upside was she still had her weapons, ammunitions, vehicles, and even basic laboratory tools among her supplies.

"What are you missing? Maybe you can buy them from the village market." ChiChi's voice cut into Bulma's thoughts. And the young princess volunteered, "I can take you there."

"O-oh, sure." An idea began to form in Bulma's head. She could sneak off while ChiChi was distracted with the shopping. "Yeah. We can do that."

"I think you two should better stay here. Just for the next few weeks," Ox King shook his head.

"What? Why? Is it because that cute boy at the butcher's smiled at me?"

"No, it's- wait _which_ boy is this?" the large man suddenly looked alarmed.

"Oooh, ChiChi has a cute boy at the butcher's?" Bulma teased, unable to help herself because ChiChi was suddenly blushing. And Bulma's grin grew even wider when the younger girl shyly diverted her eyes and began fidgeting with her dress. She laughed in amusement when the younger girl excused herself, probably out of embarrassment because few people were comfortable discussing their crush-of-the-week with their parents.

When ChiChi came back, Bulma was about to ask for juicier details when she was handed a bundle. Unfolding it revealed that a set of her clothes had been washed and that her father's lab coat had been patched up. ChiChi might have meant well by the gesture but it was a sobering reminder for Bulma that she really can't stay here much longer.

* * *

 **A/N:** This was supposed to be a breather chapter of sorts for Bulma but my need to have ChiChi be an adorable badass won in the end. As always, reviews are loved!


	5. Combustion

**Warning:** Some violence ahead.

 **Combustion**

They were about to head to bed when there came a knocking at the door. It wasn't a meek, embarrassed _sorry-to-bother-you_ sort of tapping but a desperate, terrified, _oh-Kami-I'm-going-to-die-let-me-in_ series of pounding. Ox King didn't even bother changing out of his pajamas when he answered and found a badly injured villager at his doorstep.

"What happened to you?" Ox King asked, carrying into the house the wounded man who wheezed, "Th-they've come back."

"W-who's come back?" ChiChi asked, peering from behind Bulma. She ended up with an armful of injured villager while her father rushed out declaring, "Stay put! _I'll_ handle them."

But while ChiChi fussed over the villager, Bulma was more interested in interrogating him for answers. "Who are _they_? Where did they come from? When did they first attack? What do they want?"

"Red. Ribbon," was all the man said before he succumbed to his wounds.

"Is he?"

A trembling ChiChi nodded. She lowered the man to the floor and closing his eyes, got on her knees and clasped her hands in prayer.

Bulma, on the other hand, decided that "We can't let your dad handle these Red Ribbon bastards alone. Put on your war-bikini, ChiChi."

"B-but dad said to stay put."

"Fine, _you_ stay put. I'm going out guns blazing," the blue-haired girl grimaced. Whatever was in that healing salve ChiChi gave her was working great. If she'd actually stuck around for another day, she would've been good as new. As it was, most of her joints were still sore and walking at a brisk pace made her wince but she could push past this level of pain. She had to.

"No, you are not going anywhere by yourself!" ChiChi was instantly blocking her way, and despite her short stature, the dark-haired princess was stronger than Bulma.

"ChiChi, please! The people who killed my parents might be there, too!"

"All the more why you can't go alone!"

"Then come with me! If your dad catches us, blame me! Tell him I managed to sneak out so you had to run after me!" Bulma herself was trembling with barely concealed rage. She refused to let the possibility of exacting her revenge slip through her fingers just because she wasn't in top condition.

ChiChi glanced from the dead villager to the hate-filled glower of Bulma and finally relented. "Give me five minutes to change. If you _try_ to leave me behind I will catch up to you, knock you out, and drag you back here. You _know_ I can!"

"Yeah, yeah, just get a move on," Bulma grumbled but was visibly relieved that ChiChi would have her back. In the time it took the younger girl to don her armor, Bulma had her satchel strapped on, guns at the ready, and her capsule supplies loaded into the hovercycle. The pair climbed into the vehicle and made good time in their ride down to the village. To their horror, they arrived to find the village overrun with men in the same military uniform as the poachers.

* * *

ChiChi watched as her father fought valiantly, his blood-drenched battle-axe cleaving through the invaders with impressive speed. But when she realized a number of the uniformed men were approaching them and Bulma, she squeaked and stumbled backwards until she pressed up against someone.

A quick glance upwards showed her it was just Bulma, whose focus was on the quickly tightening circle of men.

"Make things go boom, ChiChi!" Bulma grinned, drawing a loaded automatic machine gun and opening fire all in the same breath.

The dark-haired princess yelped and covered her ears from the loud staccato, wishing the older girl had stayed put in their house instead of forcing her way down to the village. She didn't want to be in the battlefield, didn't want to see people hurt each other and die. But she heard screams, noticed the pitch were those of women and children, and ChiChi's protective instincts kicked in.

She drew upon her father's ferocity and her own desire to defend her kingdom. It wasn't the most advanced, it wasn't the biggest either, but it was _hers_ and that was enough to summon the warrior within her. As the bladed fin flew and sliced through flesh, a hail of laser-fire rained down on the invaders.

When it became clear that their enemy had retreated, ChiChi found her legs turning to jelly and she fell into an exhausted heap. Bulma gave an equally tired sigh and slumped against her.

"They weren't here," the blue-haired girl murmured. ChiChi couldn't tell if Bulma was happy or sad over the fact.

She didn't have time to ask when her father, a hell-beast in torn pajamas, roared. "ChiChi! What are you doing here?!"

"Who would have thought the dainty little daughter was an equally fearsome warrior like her papa?" An accented voice suddenly said. Both girls turned towards the new comer. They saw a silver-haired man standing beside a brunette, both of his arms sported freshly cast plaster, in a wheelchair. "Pardon Colonel Silver if he doesn't give a round of applause or a standing ovation."

"Who's that other girl? The nurse maid?" Silver sneered.

Bulma opened her mouth to snarl when Ox King cut her off, "What are you doing back here, White?"

"That's _General White_ to you. After you defeated Colonel Silver so utterly, I told you that I'll be back. And I brought reinforcements."

"Well we drove them off!" Bulma snapped.

"The cannon fodder? Don't strain yourself, servant girl. I was referring to the Major."

The ground trembled, the night air echoed with heavy footsteps that grew louder as a large figure slowly made its way closer along the unlit mountain path.

Ox King's grip on the handle of his battle-axe tightened. And when the Major came into view in the dim torchlight, the mountain King hurled his weapon at the sunglass-wearing man's neck. The blade buried itself with the ear-splitting shriek of rending metal. There was no blood that spilled, only brief sparks of arc flashes as the Major slowly, _mechanically,_ reached up to pluck the axe from his throat.

General White only laughed, "Show them what _you_ can do, Major Metallitron!"

"Roger," the Major answered, deep and robotic.

"ChiChi! Run!" Ox King yelled, bracing himself for the large android's fist. His feet dug furrows as he was pushed back from a single punch.

"Dad!" ChiChi screamed, leaping forward to help her father when General White grabbed her by her cape. He yanked, hard, and with impressive dexterity entangled the cape around ChiChi's hands.

"Calm down, little one, the Major won't kill your papa. Just beat him to within an inch of his life, that's all."

"That's if you're not lying!" Bulma suddenly had the muzzle of a pistol trained on the back of White's head. "What do you want from these people, anyway?"

Silver picked up the question, "The Red Ribbon Army just wants to set up a new headquarters for General White's division. We were more than willing to pay rent but Ox King thinks we're trouble."

"He'd be correct," White grinned, one arm deftly reached back to pluck the gun out of Bulma's hand. "But we're only trouble if you don't see things our way."

"You leave. My daughter. Alone!" Ox King had managed to grip the android by the middle and with bone-breaking force, flung the metal man down the mountain road. He charged forward and was shot. Repeatedly.

"NO!" ChiChi shrieked, eyes wide in horror as she thrashed against her captor's grip. The gem on her helmet glowed incandescent and unable to find release, energy began to crackle along the top of the headgear, collecting at the very point of the bladed fin. And in her struggling, she managed to bring her head down just right and the blade struck General White.

Energy surged forward upon contact and exploded across the man's body, rupturing his blood vessels and frying his nerves. The metal fin snapped from the strain and ChiChi was propelled away, sending her careening into Bulma.

"G-Gotcha!" the blue-haired girl panted but ChiChi shoved against her, trying to get to her father and in doing so, knocked Bulma right into Colonel Silver's wheelchair. The impact was enough to loosen the wheelchair's brakes, and the immobile Silver rolled backwards along the downhill slope of the mountain road, screaming on his descent.

"Dad!" ChiChi sobbed.

"This is nothing," Ox King assured her. But the torchlight glinting off crimson trickles suggested otherwise.

There was a wet scream, the sickening crunch of bone, and the squeal of crumpling metal beneath slow but steady footsteps.

The mountain king placed a heavy hand atop his daughter's shoulder, solemnly ordering, "ChiChi, I've sent the villagers away. I need you to take Bulma and run."

"I'm not leaving you behind!" the dark-haired princess shook her head, throwing her arms around her father.

"Someone has to stay behind to stoke the fire."

"But dad-!"

"You need to survive this, ChiChi," Ox King said, tears washing his face of blood and dirt, "Find my old teacher Master Roshi. Train under him, grow stronger, and when you can snuff the flames of Frypan Mountain, come back and reclaim your Kingdom. If the Red Ribbon Army wants our village so much, they can learn to be fireproof for it."

Bulma handed Ox King a capsule and mumbled, "I have more than one hovercycle."

The blue-haired girl revved up her supply-laden vehicle and waited for ChiChi. The dark-haired girl was bawling into one of her father's arm, unable to leave until Major Metallitron's robotic voice declaring "I'm back," forced their hand.

Ox King bodily picked up his daughter, dropped the still-protesting girl into the seat behind Bulma, and decapsulated his own vehicle. The two hovercycles drove off into opposite directions, leaving Major Metallitron staring between father and daughter, trying to decide whom to chase. In the end, the metal man raised his arms on either side of his body. He bunched his hands into fists then promptly launched them.

ChiChi spied the incoming rocket and whimpered about its approach to Bulma, who just screamed profanities and pushed the hovercycle harder, faster, move it move it _move it_! Another glance back had ChiChi turning around, thighs gripping the seat as tightly as she could for balance. She began firing her laser-beams at the fist, watched in dismay as they simply bounced off.

The rocket hand drew closer and the fingers uncurled, poised to grab them.

But even though ChiChi was exhausted, her eyes blurry from tears, her heart aching in her chest, she grit her teeth and focused everything she had. She wasn't going to let her father's sacrifice be in vain. The gem glowed again as she built up her energy. She ignored the terrified screams from Bulma, waited until the very last second before she let loose a massive blast. It propelled their hovercycle forward and reduced the pursuing rocket into shrapnel that flew every which way.

One shard struck ChiChi's helmet with a resounding crack, fracturing the gem and sending her slamming back against Bulma. The older girl threw an arm behind her, blindly grabbing for ChiChi and securing the younger girl by her cape. The drive down the dark, winding mountain path was bumpy and rough, met with close calls and near-crashes, but they rode on straight until dawn and into the Diablo desert.

* * *

 **A/N:** I was planning on taking a short break to build up a buffer of sorts. Then, OMG Lady Lan finished her incredible epic drabble-fic _Pandemic_. My feels. Just. OMG MY FEELS. It totally put me into a writing mood. So you get this chapter sooner than I expected 8D

Ignoring the whole played-for-laughs aspect of the manga/anime, when push comes to shove the women in Dragon Ball Z become incredible powerhouses. ChiChi may feel a little flip-flop-y with her aggression but she did start out shy in canon. And then we have Bulma who has always been um rather _eager_ to pull the trigger. As always, reviews are loved and appreciated!


	6. Documentation

**Documentation**

They'd driven through the night with ChiChi keeping vigil of any pursuers while Bulma navigated the terrain. Midday found them at the mouth of the Diablo desert, the hovercycle's exhaust kicking up dust devils in its wake as the vehicle soared over the dunes. Last evening's exhaustion and fatigue finally caught up, if not with the girls then with their vehicle's engine. The steady hum became a jittering whine from the merciless heat of the desert sun beating down on them. It was only luck that when the hovercycle finally surrendered to over-temperature and sputtered out, the pair could make out a large rocky formation within walking distance.

In the dwarf-mountain's shade, Bulma set up what she considered was a modest capsule house. But really, it could have had fifty rooms or just one because, in the boiling heat of high noon, her main concern was "The air conditioner works!"

Shortly after they dumped their burden of capsule-filled rucksacks onto the living room floor the two girls simply sprawled over the couch in a deep sleep.

* * *

Hunger pangs eventually had Bulma pulling her face off from the upholstery and reluctantly opening her eyes to darkness. Oh and pain. Her body was stiff and the parts that weren't were sore. _Fucking Red Ribbons_ she grumbled, their one good trait apparently was that they had shit for aim. She wasn't sure how she and ChiChi managed to get out of that midnight raid without sustaining any injuries.

Slowly, she got up. Using the faint moonlight streaming through the round windows of the capsule house to guide her steps, the blue-haired girl fumbled for the light switch. A flick of her finger flooded the living room with light, revealing ChiChi was still asleep, dark hair fanned over the cushions with her helmet discarded on the floor by the foot of the couch. Her face was pinched with worry and she whimpered against phantoms in her dreams.

Bulma's empty stomach took a backseat to the hollow ache in her chest. She didn't know if she should wake the younger girl or let her sleep. What had the former heiress done after her own parents were murdered? That is, aside from screaming, crying, and cursing a blue streak a mile wide?

It had been a blur, mostly. Some part of her must have kept going, otherwise she wouldn't have retrieved the capsule from her father's lab coat or packed enough supplies as if she'd be facing the end of the world.

Here and now, Bulma opened the satchel strapped to her leg and took out one of the unlabeled capsules. A careful inspection later, she decapsulated its contents: Her dragon radar, a datapad, and a hand-written letter.

* * *

 _My dearest Bulma,_

 _If you're reading this, well, it looks like I died before I could personally explain things to you. I found the Dragon Ball in my younger days, back when I was only dating your mother. It wasn't much of an adventure, really. I simply found it while we were on a picnic in the mountains. Your mother recognized it even if she didn't really know what it was other than what it was called. Apparently she'd seen one before._

 _In some ways, I regret bringing the Dragon Ball back to West City. But scientific inquiry and learning the secrets of such an artifact proved too strong a temptation. Also, I was young and curious and I wanted to study it. There was just something other-wordly about it that I couldn't help myself. Perhaps you've felt it as well?_

 _Unfortunately, all I had to go on were legends, which not many people knew about. I had some scholars weigh in their thoughts but they all saw it as nothing more than early civilizations trying to make sense of natural occurrences. Pity I couldn't trust them enough to show them the actual Dragon Ball. What would they have said then?_

 _Then the years passed and I still couldn't crack its secrets not even with the most advanced tools and equipment we could buy or build. I did manage to learn that the Dragon Ball was indestructible. I did all sorts of things to it, testing how much punishment it could take, putting it through all sorts of stressful conditions, and it came out without a scratch! It's really quite a marvel. If only we could somehow figure out what material it was made from, think of how it could benefit mankind!_

 _But I had to keep it in that complicated capsule setup because, well, perhaps this is just an old man theorizing that at the very core of the Dragon Ball an incredible source of energy. Something so powerful that makes nuclear reactors look like a wind-up toy in comparison. I can't remember where I heard this theory or if I dreamt it up. It certainly felt too real to have been just a dream. I tried to look into this some more but I wasn't able to get very far because something much more important happened._

 _You were born._

 _I planned on giving you the Dragon Ball when you turned eighteen without this note of course as I would have told you the whole thing personally. But I'm guessing something bad must have happened to me so I'm entrusting the Dragon Ball to you along with all my research in the encapsulated datapad. What you do with it is up to you._

 _As for the Dragon Ball itself, get rid of it. Take it to Son Gohan of Mount Paozu and leave it with him. He's a formidable martial artist who is also in possession of a Dragon Ball. He'll be able to safeguard it from unscrupulous people. How your mother met him is her story to tell so I won't even try. Just know that we both trust this man with our lives and we possibly can trust him with yours._

 _I know my death means you and your mother are in grave danger and I am truly sorry that I am the cause of your pain. Be strong, Bulma. I know this is a tremendous burden, but you can survive this. Perhaps, some day, you'll be able to forgive an old man his selfishness. I love you and your mother very much._

 _-Poppa._

 _Oh! If you meet a Dr. Gero, stay away from him, sweetheart. Do not let him know you know of the Dragon Balls. He's a brilliant man but he's also stark raving mad. Keep the Dragon Balls away from Dr. Gero and whomever he works for. I fear that in his hands, he may not need all the balls to bring about the disaster the legends speak of._

* * *

The sound of ChiChi stirring had Bulma quickly folding the note and encapsulating it together with the datapad and the dragon radar before she went to check up on the younger girl.

"Hey, ChiChi. You're just in time, I was just about to fix dinner," she chirped with forced cheerfulness.

"Hmm? Dad always does..." ChiChi mumbled groggily, rubbing her eyes as she slowly sat up. But when she caught sight of her bloodied gloves, the dark-haired girl's voice caught in her throat. Trembling, she stared at the stains as the memories of last night came rushing back, and she buried her face into the nearest cushion on the couch.

Bulma didn't know what to say but she knew better than to ask if ChiChi was alright. Because that had been the _last_ thing she would have wanted to be asked of her. Of course she's not alright, she'd just been driven out of her Mountain Kingdom and it was very likely that ChiChi was now as much an orphan as Bulma.

All she could do was gently pat the sobbing younger girl on the back, assuring her that she could "Cry it all out. Take your time."

ChiChi looked up with watery eyes, tears and snot streaming down her face, and managed to say in between hiccups, "L-let me h-help fix dinner. I-I n-need something to do."

"Sure!" Bulma smiled, rummaging through her supplies for some microwavable dinners as well as some tissues. "Here," she said, handing a pack of tissues and then two trays covered in foil. "Just heat these up. I'll take care of clean up duty after we eat."

"Don't you have any raw vegetables or meat?"

"I wasn't exactly in any situation to grab stuff that didn't come in the instant variety."

"Oh, well, next time you should stock up on ingredients. Eating only these types of food can't be healthy for you," ChiChi sniffled, somewhat disapprovingly.

"About next time..." Bulma began carefully. "We should talk."

"Yes," the younger girl nodded. "We should."

* * *

 **A/N:** About an hour after I posted Combustion my mom called to tell me my dad died. Updates and replies will be a little slow, please bear with me until I get back in the right frame of mind to write.


	7. Objectives

**Objectives**

Dinner was peppered with planning and protests and arguments between the two. ChiChi didn't want Bulma joining her on her quest to find Master Roshi, declaring the responsibility lay squarely on her shoulders. Bulma, on the other hand, refused to let ChiChi go it alone.

" _You_ were traveling alone," ChiChi pointed out.

"I happen to be sixteen. Practically an adult. How old are _you_?"

"Thirteen!"

"See? You're just fresh outta being a preteen. You are not mature enough to go adventuring on your own. Whereas I have three years of worldly experience under my belt." Bulma blatantly ignored the incredulous _are-you-kidding-me_ look on ChiChi's face. "Besides, how far do you think _you're_ gonna get on foot? Plus it's not like you packed any supplies or have any money on you."

The younger girl hung her head, trying not to sulk at her half-eaten dinner. Bulma had a point but that didn't mean ChiChi had to _like_ it.

"The way I see it, ChiChi, we're in the same boat so we should stick together. Those Red Ribbon fuckers will be looking for both of us and we can watch each other's back. Besides, after I finish my business at Mount Paozu I... I don't really have anything else to do or anywhere to go back to."

Capsule Corporation wasn't safe. Whatever security system her father had set up, whatever security team he'd hired to guard the estate, they hadn't worked. It was probably safer for the employees if she pretended she was still out gallivanting on her announced adventure, blissfully unaware of what had happened to her parents back home.

"B-but why would you want to help me?" ChiChi countered, determined to handle her own problems by herself. After all, how did she expect to rule over her mountain kingdom if she kept depending on other people's help?

"Uh _duh?_ " Bulma laughed, "Like you told me. Because it's the right thing to do."

* * *

After they finished eating and disposed of their dinner trays, Bulma brought out a small holographic map projector. There was a blinking dot in the Diablo desert, to which the former heiress identified "This is us." She began to input commands into the small keypad and the map view shifted, "This is Mount Paozu. I need to find some martial arts dude called Son Gohan there."

"It's an awfully big mountain. How are you supposed to find one man there?"

The blue-haired girl looked hesitant for a moment then gave ChiChi a serious look. "What I'm about to tell you is a _huge_ secret. Promise me you won't ever tell anyone what I'm about to tell you."

"I promise," the younger girl nodded, dark eyes wide and curious though her lips were pressed into a solemn line.

Bulma decapsulated her dragon radar and held it out, "Son Gohan has something called a Dragon Ball."

"What's a-"

"A Dragon Ball is basically an orange ball that completely fucks up your life," Bulma explained bitterly before shifting into a more academic mode, "Using the dragon radar, we should be able to find the Dragon Ball in Mount Paozu. We find that, we find Son Gohan." She activated the device and it immediately detected four signals. Blue eyes stared at the screen, "That's weird..."

"What is?"

The former heiress began to adjust the settings on the radar to filter the exceptionally strong signal coming from the far north. Gesturing for ChiChi to come closer, Bulma then turned the green-gridded screen towards the dark-haired girl. "Take a look at this. Tell me what you see."

"Three dots. What's it mean? Is something wrong?"

"I'm not sure. There might be. See, two of those dots are mine but look where the third one is coming from."

"Somewhere in the Diablo desert."

"And we're not too far from it. It's maybe an hour's drive away?" Bulma furrowed her brows and began to adjust the radar's settings again. With one hand pointed at the projected map she said, "According to this, Mount Paozu should be within range of the radar but..."

"But?"

"Just look," the former heiress instructed.

"There's no dot at Mount Paozu," ChiChi realized.

"Which means that-" an explosion from the capsule house's front door cut her off.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you all for the condolences. Sorry for such a short chapter. Still trying to get back into the right frame of mind for this fic.


	8. Advent

**Advent**

"It's there!" Chiaotzu whispered to Tien from the dune overlooking the capsule house. "I can make out the Dragon Ball's echoes over there! It's faint but steady."

"How shall we proceed, Master Tao? Stealth?" the three-eyed man asked.

"No need for that. We're in the middle of nowhere. I think it's the right time for a little shock and awe."

The trio made their way towards the capsule house and Tien was given the honor of "knocking." Once certain Chiaotzu was safely behind him, the triclops charged his Ki into the tips of his fingers and pointed at the door. A beam shot out, spiraling tighter and tighter until it struck the door and splintered it apart with a _bang_.

Tien didn't wait for the smoke to clear before striding into the capsule house. After all, what threat could the Briefs girl possibly pose to an assassin? The answer came in the glint of moonlight on gun-gray metal and a hail of bullets as the girl opened fire.

His hands were a blur. And when the staccato of her rifle and the jingle of metal jackets went quiet, the triclops dropped the bullets to the floor, one flattened round at a time. Their blue-haired target could only drop her jaw and her weapon in shock.

"You've gotten much faster, Tien," his mentor praised, stepping past him and into the capsule house.

"Thank you, Master," the three-eyed man bowed before glancing back to check on Chiaotzu. The little red-cheeked boy peered around the broken door frame and came in when Tien gestured that it was safe for him to enter.

"Who's that?" the floating child asked, pointing to the dark-haired girl who had donned a broken helmet and yelled, "You stay away from us!"

From the cracked gem came a scatterburst of pencil-thin beams that punched holes through the house's walls. When the dust settled, it became apparent that her attack struck at everything except the trio.

"Nice lightshow, kid," Tien mocked, brushing plaster off his shoulders and Chiaotzu's head. "Why don't you put that away before you hurt yourself?"

"Why don't you three put your hands up before I blow you all to kingdom come?" the blue-haired girl growled. And for the first time, Tien wondered what sort of family the Briefs were that the heiress could wield not only a semi-automatic rifle but an RPG as well.

Master Tao only chuckled and opened his mouth only to have the girl snarl, "I swear to Kami if you say something like _I like a girl with spirit_ you get the first one-way ticket to boom town."

The braided man laughed, "Go right ahead, my dear. I do enjoy traveling."

Those blue eyes narrowed at the taunt and she pulled the trigger. But Tien wasn't worried. Master Tao was the best assassin in the business. And when the man lightly brought his leg up, Tao's knee gently nudged the grenade upward to explode against the ceiling and collapse the dome's structure around them.

* * *

Tao stood over the groaning figure of Bulma Briefs. _So much trouble for this slip of a girl._ If his employer hadn't given him such a ridiculously obscene amount of money he would have thought this task beneath an assassin of his caliber. He bent down to yank the girl up by the scruff of her blouse when a leg attempted to kick his arm away.

"You leave Bulma alone!"

 _So, the Briefs girl has a mini-bodyguard, does she?_ Tao soundlessly chuckled to himself. With one finger he blocked the strike, felt a slight sting from the impact before he flicked the dark-haired girl away. She twisted awkwardly but managed to land on her feet. A better look showed him that her stance was sloppy and the many ways to unbalance her. But there was power in that kick, and he recalled the gem she'd used to fire ki-beams. There was a suggestion of a diamond in the rough in the girl and he had an eye for talent, "You have potential girl, would you like to become my student?"

She looked taken aback by the offer but she recovered quickly enough and declared, "Never! I'm going to learn under Master Roshi!"

Tao quirked a brow, _Roshi?_ There was a name he hadn't heard in, well, decades. "You'd just be wasting your time, girl. That old fool's teachings or techniques won't do you any good in this day and age."

"I don't care! You're with the Red Ribbon Army and I'm going to destroy them!"

This time even his students joined Tao in laughter. "Destroy the Red Ribbon Army, she says. Oh this is too rich." He hopped up into the air to avoid the low sweeping kick, easily sidestepped the girl's punch, and was about to leap forward to counter when he was yanked back by his braid.

"I will _kill_ you," Bulma rasped, tightly gripping the length of his hair and throwing her full weight when she gave another vicious yank. Tao grit his teeth against the stinging of his scalp, found his footing, and threw an elbow into her gut, just strong enough to knock her out. It was uncharacteristically gentle of him because rich, spoiled brats were oh-so-delicate and his employer wanted her relatively unscathed when he brought her back to base.

Tien was quick to catch the blue-haired girl's unconscious form only to lose custody of her when the sole of the dark-haired girl's boot deeply imprinted against his cheek. The female warrior protectively stood between them and the Briefs girl.

 _Catching Tien off-guard takes remarkable speed,_ Tao mentally acknowledged but outwardly snorted, "What's the matter, Tien? Can't handle a little girl?"

It was a pity that she was dead-set on learning from Roshi of all people. It might have been interesting to have a female student for a change. The chilly desert wind kicked up sand and Tao suddenly lifted his hand. With two fingers, he deftly halted a dao from cleaving into his the side of his skull.

"It seems we have company," Tao smirked up at the silhouette standing atop one of the dwarf-mountain's outcrops.

* * *

 **A/N:** I probably shouldn't enjoy writing Tao this much. As always, reviews are loved and appreciated!


	9. Exodus

**Exodus**

Tao stared up at the figure silhouetted in moonlight. With a flick of his wrist, the assassin sent the dao flying right back at the unwanted guest. Impassively, he watched the long-haired intruder leap forward to catch the weapon by the handle and lightly land amidst the wreckage of the capsule house.

"The Red Ribbon Army isn't welcomed here!" the scarred young man growled, brandishing his blade before making another attempt at lopping off Tao's head.

The master assassin smirked, angling his neck and body to dodge the sword with contemptuous ease. "I see the rumors were true, if not grossly exaggerated." Leaping away to put distance between himself and his clearly unworthy opponent, Tao called out, "Tien, even unarmed you should be more than a match for the desert vigilante we've been hearing about."

His three-eyed student nodded and immediately lunged forward to deal with the intruder. Certain that Tien would make short work of the scarred fighter, Tao barked to "Chiaotzu, bind the little girl. I'm going to return to base with Ms. Briefs."

His smaller student gave the dark-haired girl an eerie grin. Whatever Chiaotzu lacked in physical strength he more than made up with his psychic talents. Tao would never have taken in such a weakling otherwise.

"Are you certain you won't study under me?" Tao offered one last time to the warrior girl now struggling to resist the paralyzing effects of Chiaotzu's abilities. "I won't always be under contract with the Red Ribbon Army, you know. I might even be hired to take out Commander Red himself once he's made the right enemies."

"Never!"

 _There's no accounting for taste,_ Tao snorted and slung the unconscious blue-haired girl over his shoulder. He could hear the hum of a blade slicing through empty air, the meaty thud of a fist striking flesh. _Huh. Tien was still fighting?_ Either he'd overestimated his student's abilities or the desert vigilante had been holding back.

It didn't matter to Tao, not in the long run. His final instructions to his students before he headed back was "Return to the base once you've found the Dragon Ball and dealt with the vigilante."

"It's actually vigilante _s_. Plural," another voice corrected and Tao turned in time to see a short bald fighter strike Chiaotzu, effectively releasing the young girl from the psychic binding. The new-comer raised a fist in a victory pose, "As in more than one!"

Mercenary Tao knew he ought to leave while he had the opportunity but he was curious to see how Chiaotzu would fare against an opponent while Tien was occupied. He watched as the pale child got back on his feet, the eerie smile now a sinister glower.

"You'll pay for that, baldie!" Chiaotzu hissed, raising his arms forward and successfully capturing the short intruder in his psychic hold. But before he could do any damage, the dark-haired girl surprised him with a swift kick to the back of his head. There was a squeal of outrage and the pale child's expression turned murderous, his large, doll-like eyes glowing in the night. Chiaotzu propelled himself forward, a white bullet aimed for the female fighter who stumbled back in a panic, her arms flailing wildly. Rather than break through her thrashing, Tao's second student was repelled and sent twisting towards the bald fighter.

Without turning, Tao snapped, "Focus on your own opponent, Tien!" The assassin heard the reluctant grunt from the triclops then the buzz of gathering ki. _Oh ho! He still has the energy for a second Dodon Ray?_ Tao thought with a pleased smirk.

There came the ringing of metal snapping and Tao stepped to the left. The tip of the now-broken dao buried itself in the sand where the assassin had _just_ been standing. He really ought to leave with the Briefs girl since his students were proving they could handle themselves. But it was just a bit too amusing to watch these intruders get a beating.

It would have been more amusing if he'd been the one to deal with these gnats. Even if there was no challe-

Tao sharply ducked to avoid an incoming fist, discovering it to be a feint as a knee struck him in the small of his back with the sharp crack of bone against bone. The blow had him eating a mouthful of sand and dropping the unconscious blue-haired girl.

"W-who _dares_?" Tao snarled as he pushed himself back up. His beady eyes narrowed dangerously at the bearded old man dressed in black and white.

* * *

The sword had been a ruse, Tien realized. His scarred opponent fared better against him unarmed than when he was wielding the dao. Though the three-eyed assassin was larger and stronger, the long-haired fighter was much more accustomed to fighting on the loose, ever-shifting desert floor and managed to keep a step ahead. Tien ground his teeth in frustration. He shouldn't be having this much trouble against some lowly punk playing at being a vigilante!

He roared and let loose a pulse of ki, strong enough to fountain sand around him and knock his opponent off their feet, leaving them open to an attack. But as Tien was about to launch himself after his airborne foe, he sensed something approaching him. He didn't have enough time to look before his mentor collided against him and sent them both plowing into a dune some distance away.

With his head covered in sand and grit, Tien barely managed to hear his mentor's groan "R-retreat," then a gurgle of unconsciousness.

A muffled thud beside him had the triclops pulling himself free, arms moving to block. All three eyes widened at the sight of Chiaotzu buried up to his waist in the dune. Tien was digging his fellow student out when the sound of footsteps reached his ears. The pale child woozily clutched at his head as the pair looked up to find the three desert vigilantes.

The old man with the blue dye-job stepped forward, "Go on. Get outta here. We find out that any of you try anything with those two gals, you're in for a world of pain."

It wasn't against Tao's teachings to flee when you've lost a fight but it still left a bad taste in Tien's mouth as he hoisted Tao onto his shoulders with Chiaotzu hovered beside him. Anger and pride twisting in Tien's gut had him carefully angling his arms to hide that he was gathering energy in the palm of his hands. Chiaotzu's grin signaled to the triclops that his fellow student was poised to paralyze all three vigilantes. Because it _also_ wasn't against Tao's teachings to leave your opponents something to remember you by.

The old man waved his hand then a wall of air and sand slammed into Tien and Chiaotzu, quickly dissuading both of them of their attempt. Without another word or a backward glance, they fled for their Red Ribbon Base.

* * *

 **A/N:** With the exception of Tien's "Dodon Ray" the rest of the moves are your basic _Kiais_ and Ki-blasts that don't call for characters yelling/declaring their move-name. Action scenes are hard to choreograph and pace, which proves this drabble-fic's muse _hates_ me because it keeps making me write them to progress the story OTL Reviews are loved and appreciated!


	10. Kismet

**Kismet**

ChiChi wasn't entirely certain of what was happening. One minute she was struggling to free herself from this creepy doll-like kid's invisible attack, the next she was being helped by a mysterious bald fighter. Admittedly, whenever ChiChi fantasized about being rescued by someone, she'd always pictured him to be, well, _taller_ and with a nose. What she _didn't_ picture him as was needing her help.

She didn't even hesitate to kick the back of the floating kid's head. Somehow, it was easier for the dark-haired princess to find the courage and strength to fight when it was in defense of another. There was still the little issue of her panicking whenever ChiChi herself was the target. As evidenced by the way she blindly flailed her arms in her attempt at protecting herself. She only hoped that when she finally found Master Roshi he'd be able to teach her how to break out of this bad habit. That and how to properly fight.

From the corner of her eye, she saw the braided man drop Bulma onto the sandy ground and she was instantly by the older girl's unconscious body. Her bald rescuer seemed to be faring well against his opponent and a yell from the distance had her glancing to where the three-eyed jerk had just... what had he done? It was as if he summoned the winds with that yell of his!

She blinked, and the next thing she knew this old man with blue hair and a white beard knocked the pink-clad Red Ribboner clear across the desert! Shortly afterwards, the floating kid was sent careening in the same direction. While ChiChi was tempted to see what would become of them, Bulma's condition was more important.

A quick inspection revealed that the blue-haired girl was all right, just knocked out. ChiChi let out a sigh of relief but she tensed when the three (what did the braided man call them?) desert vigilantes crested over a dune and made their way towards her.

"S-stop right there!" she ordered, getting into a stance and positioning herself protectively in front of Bulma. To her surprise, they did as she commanded though the old man studied her curiously, the short bald one looked amused, and the scarred one was downright uncomfortable.

"U-um," the dark-haired girl stammered, suddenly unsure of what to say or do.

"Are either of you hurt, young lady?" the old man asked, his demeanor less intense, his aura non-threatening than when he was fighting against the Red Ribboner.

"Can we talk about this back at camp? You can bet that those three will be back with reinforcements," the scarred one growled, arms folded across his chest and not quite meeting ChiChi's gaze.

"Mind your manners when talking to women," the old man barked and gave the young man a smack upside the head that rang through the desert night.

"Sorry about your house," the short one said, whether to spare himself from a slap or out of genuine concern the sheepish grin on his nose-less face didn't say, "But Yamcha's right, we should probably head back."

"We'll escort you two ladies to our camp," the old man explained kindly. "You'll be safe there."

"At least safer than being out in the open," Yamcha muttered beneath his breath, one hand rubbing the sore spot the old man had struck, the other pulling out a capsule from the pocket of his pants. He decapsulated a desert buggy that even ChiChi could tell had seen better days.

"Why should I trust any of you?" the dark-haired girl demanded, trying to put on a brave front. For all she knew they could only be _pretending_ to be nice.

"Y-you mean to say you don't recognize me?" the old man drooped in disappointment. Yamcha coughed and gestured to his hair. Understanding dawned on the old man and he yanked up at his blue-hued locks until there was a _sound_ , like a suction cup finally yielding its hold on whatever surface it had been planted upon. "Yee-ow! That's some strong glue," the man laughed, smoothing his palm atop his now-bald head. "Try picturing me with sunglasses."

ChiChi only stared blankly.

"Are you telling me your father never kept any of my photographs on display?!"

ChiChi only shook her head.

The old man sighed deeply, "Ah well, he probably didn't have time for much housekeeping since your mother died. But I recognize _you_ well enough, my dear. I'm Master Roshi."

* * *

 **A/N:** Sorry that it's a rather short update this time but expect another chapter soon! Reviews are loved and appreciated!


	11. Variables

**Variables**

Bulma woke up to wild rocking and her first thought was the world was coming to an end. Then she realized that the roar wasn't the sky falling but merely an engine block on its last leg.

 _Where am I? What happened? What the fuck is going on?_ The last thing she remembered was trying to rip the hair out of the bastard that killed her parents. She cracked open an eye and saw stars. As in those balls of plasma millions of light years away in space. She can't remember ever seeing this many without a telescope back home in West City.

"Oh hey! She's awake!" a chipper, unfamiliar voice declared and a familiar face eclipsed Bulma's view of the night sky.

"Can you sit up, Bulma?" ChiChi asked.

"Only one way to find out." When Bulma managed to right herself without any dizzy spells, she found herself beside ChiChi in the backseat of a desert buggy. A short, bald boy was studying her from the passenger's seat. He gave her what he must thought was a charming smile, except it made Bulma lean closer to ChiChi and whisper beneath her breath, "What's going on? Are we prisoners or what?"

"We're not prisoners," ChiChi assured her, pulling back to smile widely and point to the bald old man squeezed beside the bald kid. "Master Roshi saved us."

"The same Roshi your dad told you to find?"

"Yes! And I've asked him if he could train me." The dark-haired girl quickly added, "But don't worry, I won't start until you find Son Gohan."

"Son Gohan?" Roshi had turned around to face them, "If you're talking about the mountain hermit, you're in luck then. He's staying at our camp."

"Camp?" Bulma echoed, trying not to frown at the prospect of pitching up tents or going to bed in thin sleeping bags. She never anticipated roughing it on her journey and hoped that ChiChi remembered to collect their encapsulated supplies. "Will we be safe there?"

"As safe as anyone can be with the Red Ribbon Army still in existence," the driver grunted.

"Tone the gloom and doom down, Yamcha," the bald kid admonished.

"Maybe you should learn to take things more seriously, Krillin," Yamcha countered.

"Both of you shut up or you'll be looking at an extra five hours of water-duty!" Roshi said irritably.

"Yes, sensei," the two muttered.

* * *

The camp, the girls found out, was nothing like what they had imagined. It could have been a mountain base, once upon a time. But something or someone decided it was better off as piles of boulders and rubble. Yamcha shut off the vehicle and got out, popping open the trunk and hauling Bulma's numerous rucksacks onto his shoulders without much effort.

ChiChi and Bulma kept close to each other as the trio led them to a cluster of large rocks. The girls wondered what they were supposed to do when Krillin braced his palms against one of the boulders and _pushed_. The sand flowed around the massive stone as he moved it aside to reveal a hidden entrance.

Krillin dusted his hands and bowed, "Ladies first."

"It's pitch black in there," Bulma complained.

Yamcha adjusted his hold on the rucksacks to free one hand and went ahead into the cave.

From outside, the girls heard the crackle of kindling catching fire and saw the entrance illuminated in torchlight. Sheepishly, Krillin repeated, "Ladies first."

The girls cautiously trudged forward, ChiChi keeping a close eye ahead of them while Bulma watched their backs. Even though Krillin followed after them, Bulma could easily see over him. Roshi shuffled in and drew a deep breath. There came the sound of crumbling rock as Roshi dug his fingers into the boulder and with one hand, lifted it to block the entrance.

Bulma and ChiChi gulped, realizing that they were now effectively trapped. If these people were lying about their identities or about Son Gohan, Bulma didn't know what they could do to escape. Damn it, her heavy duty weapon capsules were with that Yamcha guy. The ones she had in her satchel were pistols and handguns and look how well they did against that triclops from the Red Ribbon Army.

With no other choice, the two girls continued along the cave, carefully leaning against the walls or each other for support when the path sloped down. They arrived in what Bulma guessed was a cavern, but with only a few torches lit, she couldn't tell how big it was.

"Have a seat," Roshi gestured to folded mats circling a low table.

Bulma and ChiChi sat beside each other, letting their eyes adjust to the dim light. Bulma was unconsciously designing lighting fixtures for the place. If only because it was damn inconvenient not being able to see who else could be lurking in the shadows of the cavern. She nearly leapt up because _of course_ Yamcha chose to appear from the darkness at _that_ exact moment with two people in tow.

Bulma assumed the old man in orange was Son Gohan because she doubted he was the squat figure in black. Especially since said black-clad figure was an old woman sitting atop a floating orb.

"About time you got back," the crone muttered. "Hand over your Dragon Balls dearie so I can go back to sleep."

"Whoa, hold up! Who said I had a Dragon Ball?" Bulma said.

"That's why you're looking for Son Gohan, aren't you?" the old woman said.

"H-how did you-"

"Baba's a fortuneteller. Best one there is. She saw you two in trouble and sent the boys to rescue you," said the supposed Son Gohan.

A lump formed in Bulma's throat as she dug into her satchel. "You're really Son Gohan, right? Y-you're not just pretending or anything?"

"I'm not sure how I can prove to you that I am."

She brought out her dragon radar and on the screen was, "The third signal. It's right here. You really are Son Gohan! But I thought you lived at Mount Paozu?"

"I did. The Red Ribbon Army forced me to have a change of scenery," Gohan said ruefully.

"You finally believe? Good. Now give me the Dragon Balls so I can get my beauty rest." Baba reached her hand out.

"What are you going to do with them?" ChiChi asked as Bulma handed over a capsule.

"I'm going to keep this with Son Gohan's ball and continue masking their psychic echoes. This way, the Red Ribbon's little tracking hound won't be able to detect them."

"But what about the great disaster the legends speak of? Shouldn't we, I dunno, keep them apart or something?" The blue-haired girl asked in concern.

Baba's cackle reverberated through the cavern and continued to do so for several long seconds. When she calmed down enough, she grinned. "Ah, youth. Don't worry about that, dearie. Fortuneteller Baba's got that well under control."

When Baba retired to her bedroom, Roshi suggested they all head to bed.

Krillin volunteered to lead Bulma and ChiChi down a long, winding torch-lit passage. He chattered excitedly until they arrived in front of a curtain. Behind it was a deep alcove carved out of the stone. They found the rucksacks of supplies resting atop two mattresses so thin they might as well have been blankets.

The bald boy lit a torch with... Bulma could have sworn he shot a beam of light from his finger tips. It reminded her of the laser from ChiChi's helmet.

"Training starts before breakfast, ChiChi," Krillin said from the doorway. "Would you like me to wake you up?"

"That would be good, thank you."

"No problem. Good night!"

When Krillin disappeared behind the curtain and they could no longer hear his footsteps, ChiChi turned to Bulma. "You've given the Dragon Balls to Son Gohan and we've found Master Roshi. What are you going to do now?"

"Fuck if I know."

* * *

 **A/N:** The drabble-fic's muse decided it wanted ChiChi and Bulma as the main protagonists and I'm just a slave to its whims. I know I said I'd update soon after Kismet but it's been storming here and my internet turned unstable, so apologies for the delay. But thank you so much to everyone who's left a review or favorited or followed! It really means a lot to me!


	12. Prophet

**Prophet**

"So you failed to bring Briefs' daughter to me. _And_ you failed to procure the Dragon Balls even after I've enhanced the little one's senses." The wizened man in the lab coat didn't seem _too_ upset by his hired help's performance, but the hard gleam in those beady eyes suggested a simmering temper that could explode at a moment's notice.

"Fortunately, General Blue was able to retrieve a second Dragon Ball for me." He glanced thoughtfully from the three mercenaries kneeling before him towards the blonde, blue-eyed man standing at attention a few feet away.

General Blue smirked as he saluted, "It was nothing, good doctor. It's only natural for an officer of my caliber to succeed in my mission where inferiors would have _failed_."

A small movement of Tao's hand signaled to his students not to rise to the bait. Tao himself didn't react to the insult. He simply filed the slight away for later. _After_ his contract with Dr. Gero was officially over.

"Additionally, my men thank you for the excellent feast of bacon," the officer smiled at the scientist.

"He would have only cluttered the cells," Dr. Gero waved dismissively with one hand while the other fished out a datapad from the pockets of his lab coat. "Tao, is the girl aware of her parents' death?"

"I'm not certain. Her tantrum to our presence fits the reaction of a spoiled brat realizing that the world isn't there to cater to her every whim."

"A heavy hand should be all you need to deal with such a child," General Blue scoffed. "Shall I retrieve her for you, doctor?"

"No, General Blue, with Major Metallitron currently down for repairs, Colonel Silver tarnished beyond saving, and the state of General _Offed_ -White," Gero chuckled at his own joke, uncaring that no one else appreciated it. "Commander Red has decided your services are needed elsewhere. Report to him at your earliest convenience."

The blonde officer preened at the honor of being summoned by the supreme leader of the Red Ribbon Army. He executed a perfect textbook salute and marched out.

Gero checked his datapad, verified with his own surveillance system that no one was eavesdropping before his lips pulled into a mirthless grin, "She knows her parents are dead, doesn't she?"

"Yes, Dr. Gero," this time it was Chiaotzu who answered. "Her aura reading was quite different from regular anger."

The old scientist sighed, "Her father had been corrupted by the Dragon Balls. The last time we spoke at a conference, it was clear his mind had become addled by the sphere's influence. I had hoped to save the daughter. Now it looks as if she's been exposed to her father's well-intentioned lies..." he trailed off, lost in thought.

When the silence stretched on, Tien carefully asked, "Do you still require we bring her to you?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes, she could still prove useful so bring her to me."

"Alive?" Tao asked.

"Of course still alive!" Gero narrowed his eyes, "And fully mobile. It may take some convincing but I'm sure she'll see the light." After he dismissed the mercenaries, his eyes turned heavenwards, staring at the ceiling but seeing something else entirely. "Yes, they'll _all_ see the light and it will be glorious."

* * *

Left alone in his wing of the base, the Red Ribbon Army's top scientist went through the contents of his datapad, adjusted some numbers, and keyed in the necessary access codes. He marched through empty, harmless-looking corridors, walked past gigantic automatons as still as statues, and finally arrived at reinforced steel double-doors.

At his approach, the doors opened silently and Gero smiled at the massive contraption housing two Dragon Balls that glowed and dimmed in a steady rhythm. Stepping inside the room, the scientist felt his hairs stand on end, vibrations trembling along his skin in time to the throbbing of the Dragon Balls. He closed his eyes, allowing the tempo to wash over him, to fill him down to the very marrows of his bones until he could not distinguish between his heartbeat and the beat from the glowing spheres.

There, cradled within the center of the pulse, he could see it: the future of mankind.

Once he unlocked the secrets to the Dragon Balls' limitless energy he would achieve perfection. He would usher in a new age that would break free from the coils of fleshly weakness, he would help mankind transcend the frailty of meat and embrace the beauty of metal.

"It will be glorious," he murmured dreamily.

The sound of scraping alloy jarred him out of his reverie but Gero didn't frown at the cause. Instead, with an almost kind smile, he asked, "How are we doing, Major?"

"Eager to be back," was the monotone reply.

"Very good. Keep that in mind. It might help you manage your latest... _upgrade_."

"Roger."

Dr. Gero pulled at levers, turned dials, flicked switches, and typed like there was no tomorrow. The slow beat of the machine quickened. The scientist attached a long coil of wire from the android to his contraption.

More typing and the Dragon Balls flickered faster and faster until the light from the orange spheres reached blinding. Dr. Gero closed his eyes but still the light shone through his lids.

Major Metallitron groaned at the onrush of power, "Meltdown imminent!"

"Keep it together, Major. You're more than human after all!"

The walls of the laboratory trembled, unsecured bits and bobbles clattered and spilled onto the floor, the ground shook from the force the contraption drew from the Dragon Balls. When the pressure proved nearly too much for Gero himself and he felt his feeble chest constrict, the machine abruptly powered down.

Gero slumped to the floor, gasping for breath but grinning in triumph. Major Metallitron hadn't exploded! He unhooked the cables and wires from the android, remounted all the panels, and rebooted him. But a scan showed the artificial officer was lifeless as a lump of lead.

"Antiquated piece of junk!" Dr. Gero roared, using wrench and drill to bash at the android's hull who could do nothing but lie there and take the constant pounding. "The theory is sound! What am I missing?" Gero screamed until he was exhausted. He was too close to the project. He needed fresh eyes to give him insight but there was no one who could prove useful to a genius such as he! No one but the Briefs.

Still seething, he set his focus back on reviving the Major and let the steady beat from the machine housing the Dragon Balls wash over him.

* * *

The machine hummed on, its creator unaware that each pulse powering the artificial warriors radiated beyond the bodies of alloy and flesh, that each echo exceeded the Red Ribbon Army's instruments, that each thrum of energy soared through the cosmos and into the vast expanse of space. There, amidst dying worlds and birthing stars, there, beyond human knowledge and awareness, _they_ felt the ripples.

They stirred from their ignorance, many confused of what they'd sensed and more disbelieving of what it entailed. But one opened his senses to snatch at the gossamer strands spreading throughout the universe. He was first to clearly hear the whispered declaration of: _Here we are._ He was the first to act upon the invitation of: _Come to us._

When he emerged from his dream-like stupor, he whispered a prayer of thanks to the gods, and turned his gaze towards Earth.

* * *

 **A/N:** I have to be honest, so far, this chapter was my absolute favorite to write especially Gero's color puns. And for everyone asking about where Goku is, you'll find out in the later chapters, I promise. I wouldn't add him to the character tags if I didn't have something planned for him and Vegeta. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, favorited, or followed this fic!


	13. Justification

**Justification**

In the darkness, lying on a thin mattress beside ChiChi, Bulma couldn't get to sleep. And it wasn't just because the rush of adrenaline from the night's escapade hadn't yet ebbed, or how the ground was hard, or how the cave was bitter cold.

Something about their whole situation didn't sit right with Bulma. It all felt too _convenient_.

"I mean, think about it, ChiChi. What are the odds that the people we're both looking for just so happens to be in the same place at the same time?"

"Maybe the fortuneteller brought them together. Son Gohan did say she saw that we needed help."

"If she really wanted to help, why didn't she warn us about the Red Ribbon Army?"

ChiChi couldn't think of a response.

"Wanna corner her about it after your training?" Bulma asked.

"Yes," the dark-haired girl said.

* * *

Master Roshi's training apparently involved a lot of manual labor while wearing weighted clothes. When the old man tasked ChiChi to clear a collapsed tunnel all by herself, she set those wide, dark eyes on him, "B-but I can barely walk in these."

"I don't expect you to finish it in _one_ _day_."

"Thank Kami," ChiChi sighed in relief.

"I expect you to finish it by lunch."

"What?" she squeaked.

"We're starting with the basics and you can only rely on your own body strength. So you can forget about using your Ki-beam for this."

"Ki-beam? I don't know how-"

But Roshi had already disappeared. Shortly after, Krillin, wearing the same orange gi and blue undershirt as ChiChi, popped in to check on her. "The old clear-the-tunnel training eh?"

"This is really part of training?"

"Yeah, first day at the camp, sensei made Yamcha and me dig a tunnel out with our bare hands. No Ki-blasts allowed either. Not that we knew how to do Ki-blasts back then."

"How long did you have?"

"About a day to finish digging."

"W-why do I only have until lunch?!"

"I think he sees you have potential. Probably a lot more potential than what he saw in us." Krillin grinned crookedly.

ChiChi recalled that Roshi used to be her father's Master. Maybe the old man assumed she was just as powerful as Ox King. The dark-haired princess was stronger than she looked. After she gave the bald boy a smile in thanks for the encouragement, she cracked her knuckles and began clearing the tunnel of the large rocks. She was determined not to prove her sensei's judgment wrong.

* * *

Bulma knew she promised to wait for after ChiChi's training, but breakfast came and went. The younger girl still wasn't back. Krillin was nowhere to be seen as were Roshi and Son Gohan. Yamcha was busy in the camp's kitchen, which left her with only Fortuneteller Baba for company.

Staring down at the steaming bowl of stew, Bulma gripped her spoon tightly as she came to a decision. "Granny Baba," she began.

"Never call me Granny Baba. It's either just Baba or Fortuneteller Baba," she said in between slurps of stew.

"Okay, Fortuneteller Baba, I have a few questions for you."

"Ask away, dearie, but I can't promise you'll like my answers."

"Did you have a vision where my parents were killed? Or a vision about the android that attacked ChiChi's mountain home?"

"I can if you asked me right now."

"That's not funny," Bulma slammed her fist on the stone table and tried not to twitch in pain. "Why didn't you send anyone to warn me or ChiChi? If you did, my parents would still be alive and so would ChiChi's father!"

"Is that so? If I suddenly showed up knocking at your front door telling you that I saw someone was after your parents' life, what would you have done?"

"My momma would have offered you board and lodging to predict her future forever. My poppa would have made you sign all sorts of non-disclosure contracts and legal documents so he can study your ability."

"I asked what would _you_ have done."

Bulma said nothing.

"What do you think would have happened to ChiChi if I managed to convince you of the assassins? Would you have still gone all the way to Frypan Mountain to make sure she got out of there? Or would the Red Ribbon Army have captured and enslaved her, along with the rest of her mountain kingdom?"

Again Bulma said nothing.

"I thought as much," Baba snorted, finishing off her stew with one final gulp.

A beat and Bulma said, "Then why did you save us in the desert?"

The old woman wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Oh that's easy. I didn't want to keep being the only woman in this camp. I was on watch duty when my crystal ball showed you two driving into the Diablo desert so I sent the boys to fetch you."

"Are you serious?!"

"Ha! No!" Baba cackled, "I did see you two girls in my crystal ball. I wouldn't have bothered getting in the Red Ribbon Army's way except I had a vision of what _could_ happen if they got their hands on your Dragon Balls. I'd like Earth to refrain from becoming a smoldering wreck, thank you very much."

"S-so the legends are true? Bringing the balls together brings about a disaster?"

"Don't know about _that_. But I don't need to be psychic to know that whatever the Red Ribbon Army has planned for the Dragon Balls, it's bad news."

"Okay, one final question."

"If you must."

"What the fuck do I do now?"

* * *

Lunch could not come soon enough for ChiChi.

She'd successfully completed her training but was absolutely exhausted because of it. Farming and patrolling hadn't been this back-breaking. But she hadn't been wearing weighted clothes that made every step a struggle. She had plenty of fresh air filling her lungs instead of stale cave air. And the sun showed her the way down the well-worn mountain road, unlike the flickering torchlight that made the tunnels look like they went on _forever_.

The temptation to just collapse in the middle of the passageway was growing stronger. But the angry diatribe of her stomach pushed her on. She already had to skip breakfast to make headway with her task. There was no way she was missing lunch.

Thank Kami Bulma came looking for her and helped her to the large cavern that served as the dining room, living room, and meeting room. Along the way, the older girl told her what Baba said and how seeing the future was trickier than they first thought.

Too exhausted from her training and too weak from hunger, ChiChi could only nod or sigh. Bulma didn't seem bothered by her monosyllabic responses. The blue-haired girl was as willing to carry their conversation as she was ChiChi, albeit with a bit, alright a _lot_ of whining ("Holy shit, ChiChi, did you eat rocks for breakfast or something?")

The girls finally arrived at the multipurpose cavern when Bulma said, "So that's why I decided to head back to West City."

* * *

 **A/N:** I like ChiChi's metal bikini but let's be honest, Roshi would never be able to focus on training her if she wore it all the time. Thank you everyone for your comments on both the story and my grammar (shifting tenses are the bane of my existence and will probably continue to hound me til the end of my days.) The next update's already in the works but it may take a while since I'm going to focus on _Play Along/Play Fair_ (and maybe poor neglected _Only Once_ ) for a bit.


	14. Expedition

**Expedition**

The long-maned warrior stared up at the dusky red skies of planet Vegeta, enjoying the quiet of the dawn until his scouter began to beep and alerted him to the fact that "He's late."

The man's tail tightened irritably around his waist as he began to fiddle with the device perched on his ear. He continued until the crackle of static cleared to a cheerful but muffled voice greeting, "M'rn'n!"

The man pinched the bridge of his nose, "Kakkarot, explain to me why you're not at the capital's launch area yet."

He heard a throaty gulp over the line before Kakkarot answered, "I was too hungry to fly. Needed to fill up on breakfast first."

"Gods give me strength," the man muttered beneath his breath. "Are you at least on your way? You know how testy the prince gets when he's kept waiting."

"Is he already there, Radditz?!"

Radditz smirked at the audible fear in the young man's words, "Why don't you come and find out for yourself?"

"Last time you said that, I ended up spending a whole day in a regen tank."

"You wouldn't need to worry if you just woke up when you're supposed to."

"But I asked you to wake me."

"I'm not your damn babysitter, Kakkarot!"

"Yes, but you're my big brother."

Radditz pressed a hand to his face and pulled down, trying to maintain his patience. "Just get your tail over to the launch area within ten minutes."

"Want me to bring you something to eat?"

"No, I-"

"On my way! And I brought some for the prince too! Hey, is Mr. Nappa going to be there? Maybe I should go back so he can-"

"Kakkarot! Ass. Here. _Now!_ "

"Alright, alright, sheesh." The line went dead.

Radditz could only shake his head and grumble, "I swear, Kakkarot, one of these days you _will_ be the death of me." Knowing he was going to be stuck with his little brother for years, Radditz was going to enjoy what little peace and quiet he could get.

* * *

Nappa wasn't supposed to be on this mission. His battle prowess would have been put to better use in a skirmish against a hostile race of Frieza-loyalists instead of this covert task. But the big brute was also the crown prince's personal bodyguard and could be deceptively stealthy despite his bulky frame. And though these past two years he was a guard only in name, Nappa felt his chest swell in pride when the prince insisted Nappa be there at his side while they searched the cosmos for the tiny planet...

Blast it, what had that soothsayer called it? Urf? Urgh? Something like that. Bardock said he would have all the necessary information sent to their scouters. The bald elite was about to check when his scouter detected a high power level.

"Prince Vegeta," Nappa said as he brought a closed fist to his heart and bowed. Even without the blood red cape trailing behind him or the ornately gilded armor with the royal family's crest emblazoned on the breastplate, there was no mistaking the teenaged prince.

"Is everything ready for our departure?" the young man asked.

"Yes, my prince. The coordinates have been set for... the planet," Nappa managed to keep himself from betraying his ignorance, "And the scanners have been primed to detect potential worlds to add to our empire."

"Excellent, let's not waste another moment. The sooner we find those Dragon Balls, the sooner we can finally be out of Frieza's employ. And then we can be rid of him along with the rest of his wretched ilk." The prince smirked.

"And once we have him out of the way, there'll be no stopping us Saiyans from conquering the rest of the universe!" Nappa supplied as he and his liege rose to the sky. But his delight was short-lived once he remembered the two third-class warriors he would be sharing the honor of attending to the prince with. He didn't even bother to hide the scowl on his face.

"What is it now, Nappa?" Vegeta asked.

"I know I'm overstepping my bounds, but why of all the warriors to bring along did you pick Radditz and Kakkarot?"

"Don't be so insecure, old man, it doesn't suit you," Vegeta laughed. "I chose Bardock's whelps because if this mission proves to be a waste of my valuable time, I can vent out my frustration on his sons before I take it out on their father. Besides, I've heard that some of the lower class warriors go into a berserk rage whenever a member of their squad is felled in battle. I'd like to witness that at least once. Why else do you think I always bring at least two lower class warriors with us?"

* * *

Kakkarot managed to arrive at the launch area before the prince and was understandably relieved he wasn't going to be pummeled for his tardiness. The young Saiyan didn't understand why his brother was so upset with him though, it's not like he didn't bring enough food to share.

"Besides, it's not like this is the first time we'll be going on a mission with Prince Vegeta," Kakkarot said in between mouthfuls of meat.

"Yes, but during _those_ missions we were simply assigned into his squad to fill in a rank quota. This is the first time he _chose us_ specifically, Kakkarot. And the last thing we want is for you to embarrass father by behaving like some sort of country bumpkin instead of the proud warrior you're meant to be."

What was so embarrassing about sharing food with others? Was this that politics thing Radditz and their father often talked about? It probably was. At fourteen years old, Kakkarot could only rub the back of his head in confusion and go along with whatever Radditz said.

"So I shouldn't offer them my food?"

"Wh- th-that's not..." Radditz pinched the bridge of his nose. "Just finish eating your breakfast before the prince gets here."

When both their scouters began to beep, Kakkarot all but inhaled the food he brought and nearly choked on a piece of bone. Until his brother's tail roughly slapped him on the back and dislodged the chunk of calcium from his throat.

"For gods' sake, pull yourself together boy!" Radditz said through grit teeth, tail winding back around his waist as he scanned the horizon for the owners of the high-leveled readings.

After finishing his coughing fit and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Kakkarot stood to attention in perfect mimicry of his brother.

"On time for once," the young royal smirked as he landed. Despite the fierce expression on Kakkarot's face, the fact that the youngest Saiyan barely reached past Radditz's waist had Vegeta dubbing him as "Runt."

The bald, mustachioed giant of a man laughed, "Guess your last session with him finally got through his thick skull."

"Prince Vegeta, Nappa," the two third-class Saiyans greeted.

Radditz immediately said, "My father has already sent the decoy message to Frieza. The lizard will think you've taken the initiative to conquer new worlds in his name."

"He does enjoy having his ego-stroked," the prince snorted. "But at least this way he won't be too suspicious of our mission."

Kakkarot opened his mouth to ask what exactly their mission was, but his brother planted a heavy hand on top of his head and _squeezed_. He understood what the painful gesture meant and held his tongue, deciding it was yet again because of that tricky politics thing. Funny how it was always an issue whenever the prince was involved.

Before Radditz released his hold, Kakkarot felt the tips of his brother's fingers twitch when they lightly touched the deep, old scar on his scalp. There was a brush of fur against the youngest Saiyan's leg, then a gentle, covert pat behind his knee from his brother's tail, the gesture the siblings' unspoken version of _I'm Sorry_. Kakkarot wanted to reassure Radditz that it was alright but his brother had already climbed into his one-man pod before he could say anything.

* * *

 **A/N:** I know I said that this chapter was just in the works and would take some time to finish but my hand slipped so here you go! I promised Goku and Vegeta and here they are. You also get bonus Nappa and Radditz. Reviews are loved and appreciated, thank you! Also I am taking a bit of time off (for real this time) to work on my gift-fic for the _Secret Santa exchange_ over at the _We're Just Saiyan_ community. Thank you for understanding.


	15. Prediction

**Prediction**

Bulma expected resistance from ChiChi. Hell, she would have been upset if the younger girl _didn't_ protest the return to West City. But of all the things the younger girl would do or say to keep Bulma where she was, _being sat on_ never occurred to the former heiress. And with the weighted training clothes ChiChi had on, neither was oxygen.

It took Krillin's observation that "She's turning blue," to convince the mountain princess to get off.

The blue-haired, and nearly blue-faced, girl greedily gulped for air a few times before explaining why she would be heading back to West City.

"Son Gohan has my Dragon Balls, ChiChi's found Master Roshi, and all that's left for me to do is to make the people who murdered my parents pay. Except they can apparently stop bullets with their fucking _bare hands_. I'm going to need some serious upgrades in my weaponry. I mean, I did bring a portable lab with me," Bulma turned to the people in the cavern, "No offense but this place isn't exactly equipped to handle the kind of juice my workstation needs."

"You're going to need more than weapons when you're dealing with someone like Tao and his pupils," Roshi said. "I knew the man from way back when. Ruthless then, ruthless still. If he's looking for you he's not going to stop just because we beat him once."

"Good! That just saves me the trouble of tracking them down," Bulma said haughtily.

"And what if they find you and you haven't finished making whatever it is you plan on making?" ChiChi demanded. "Or worse! You finished it and it's not good enough? What then? I-I'm not letting you face that danger alone!"

"You can't put your training on hold for me! You still have your Mountain Kingdom to rescue, remember?"

"Doesn't sensei have a training menu for someone who does a lot of traveling?" Krillin suddenly asked.

"Yeah, but she'd need a chaperon or two to make sure she was actually sticking to it," Yamcha countered.

It was unreal. Thoroughly, undeniably unreal. Bulma could understand why ChiChi was so adamant and concerned about her safety but the others? She knew them less than a day and they were practically tripping all over themselves to help. Kami, it was like the Ox King all over again and look how _that_ turned out.

The thought of ChiChi's father and subsequently her own parents had tears pricking Bulma's eyes. After surreptitiously wiping them away she sighed, "L-look, this is flattering and all but I don't think I need-"

"It's settled then," Son Gohan declared, rising from the stone table. "Roshi and I will prepare a training menu for ChiChi, Krillin, and Yamcha while they escort Bulma to West City."

"But why?"

"The Red Ribbon Army wants you. That's reason enough for me to keep you from them," Yamcha said. He sounded determined and fierce and would have looked so _suave_ if he hadn't been staring at her shoes.

"I should join you whippersnappers but someone's gotta stay behind and watch over this place. I've also noticed that the boys have been depending too much on their sensei to bail them out. They gotta learn to stand on their own two feet," Roshi sagely explained. "And besides, my back's acting up just from last night's buggy ride! And it's about a month's drive from here to West City, isn't it?"

"It's only two weeks in a regular air-car but two months in Yamcha's clunker," Krillin teased.

"Don't you talk smack about my ride," the scarred teen warned, eyes narrowing dangerously at his fellow student.

The levity was clearly for Bulma and ChiChi's sake but the two young women appreciated the effort. Again, Bulma wiped at the corner of her eyes before declaring, "In that case we'll take one of my air-cars. But if you like, I can take a quick peek under your hood, Yamcha." She winked at him and tried not to laugh when his face turned beet red.

The only one in the cavern not to say anything was Fortuneteller Baba. The old crone was too busy finishing her lunch.

* * *

"ChiChi, could you come with me?" Son Gohan asked.

"O-oh, um, yes, but it might take a bit of waiting," she said shyly as her weighted garments slowed her down.

"That's all right, dear," he said heading into a tunnel. "Just follow me," his voice echoed.

ChiChi struggled to keep up but now and again Gohan would pause and glance over his shoulders to make sure she hadn't gotten lost. Eventually, they reached what ChiChi learned was Gohan's room. He told her to wait outside just for a moment.

"I need to tidy things up for a lady, you see," he chuckled before he pushed the curtain back and welcomed her in. Shelves were carved right into the walls and each row was packed with all sorts of urns and jugs and weapons. Gohan lightly leapt up to grab for something at the very top and he landed facing ChiChi.

"You're going to need a weapon to defend yourself with and I have just the thing." He held out a red staff. "This is a very special bo."

"What makes it special?"

Gohan smiled, shifted his hold on the weapon, and concentrated. The short staff suddenly extended by a foot. Again Gohan concentrated and the staff retracted back to its original length.

"Th-this is amazing! A-are you sure I can have it?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Roshi told me your Ki-helmet was damaged during your fight against Tao."

"N-no, it was th-the big metal man who killed my father that broke it."

"Oh, I'm so sorry about that."

ChiChi only sniffled as the memories of Ox King came rushing back. She didn't want to cry in front of a stranger but she couldn't stop herself no matter how hard she tried. She was starting to think she should stay behind, focus on her training, and let Bulma handle things by herself.

But her father wouldn't have wanted that. And ChiChi didn't think she could live with herself if something happened to Bulma. She dried her tears with the heavy armband and accepted the bo from Gohan.

"You won't be leaving until tomorrow, so let me show you some basic stances."

"Sh-shouldn't I change into something lighter first?"

"No, keep the weighted clothes on."

ChiChi quickly learned that behind the kindly voice and the gentle smile was an iron-fisted trainer.

* * *

Tomorrow came and an exhausted ChiChi, still wearing the training clothes, climbed into the passenger seat of Bulma's air-car. She normally had more energy than this but the strength training from Roshi combined with the staff exercises with Gohan meant the instant she sat down and buckled herself in, she fell fast asleep.

"Why are you driving?" Yamcha grumbled. His eyes were fixed on the blue-haired girl's shoes.

"My car, my keys," Bulma answered, suddenly leaning forward so that her eyes met his. "But don't worry, you'll get your turn at my sweet ride."

The scarred young man crimsoned and hastily looked away, seemingly forgetting his ability of speech.

Krillin was going over the training regimen with Roshi and Gohan when Baba appeared.

"What is it, Sis?" Roshi asked.

"Not sure," Baba answered, peering intently into her crystal ball, "But it might pay for you to be extra careful when you get to West City."

"Why? What did you see?" Bulma demanded, squinting at her reflection on the sphere's surface.

"Black."

"What, like, darkness?" Krillin tilted his head in confusion.

"Maybe."

"Will they need someone more experienced to go with them?" Gohan asked with a worried frown.

"I don't think so. I didn't see anything more. It could just be smog." And Baba said nothing more on the subject.

Bulma chalked it up to Baba trying to maintain the whole mystical, magical schtick. But because the old woman's vision had saved her and ChiChi from being captured by the Red Ribbon's men, she kept a wary eye out as the four of them drove off to West City.

* * *

 **A/N:** Sorry to switch out from the Saiyans but there needs to be a few more updates for Bulma and ChiChi first. Although with the holidays coming up, those might take longer than usual. Anyway, thank you for all your reviews and favorites!


	16. Anecdotes

**Anecdotes**

The two-week drive through the desert was uneventful as far as ambushes or attacks from the Red Ribbon Army were concerned. Not that _nothing_ happened because there were moments between the four teenagers.

* * *

Yamcha was on kitchen-duty. The group had nothing to eat except for the rations Bulma packed and while they were nutritious, they tasted like cardboard. He did his damned best with what he had and produced something he personally thought was edible. Krillin never complained about his cooking but then again, it wasn't his fellow student he was worrying about.

ChiChi was surprisingly critical about their food and when it had been her turn to make dinner, she managed to make something tasty out of the rations. He couldn't let someone younger than him show him up.

And of course, there was Bulma.

The mere _thought_ of the blue-haired girl made his palms sweaty and looking at her even from the corners of his eyes made his mind go blank. She was definitely the prettiest girl he'd ever seen and Kami did she have high standards. Which was kind of funny considering her cooking involved popping the rations into the microwave and getting Krillin to boil the water for her.

So he was understandably nervous when he ladled stew into the two girls' bowls. While he braced himself for complaints, he did not expect one spoonful could have ChiChi in tears.

Bulma nearly threw the bowl at him in anger as she demanded to know just "What the _fuck_ did you put in this?"

ChiChi managed to stop Bulma from hurling the flatware at him. "Th-there's nothing wrong with the stew, Bulma. I-it's just," she sniffled, wiping at the tears pouring down her face. "Th-this stew tastes like something my dad makes. I mean _made_ , I mean-"

"I-I'm sorry," Yamcha mumbled, grabbing a roll of paper towels from the capsule house's kitchen and passing them to the dark-haired girl.

"N-no, don't apologize!" ChiChi laughed despite her watery eyes, "You're an amazing cook! You could show me a thing or two."

Yamcha wasn't sure what to say or do. On the one hand, it was praise. One the other hand, it was for a bittersweet reason. Also, Bulma was staring at him like she couldn't decide if she was going to stab him for making ChiChi cry or hug him for giving ChiChi something she liked.

In the end, Yamcha decided to position Krillin between himself and Bulma. Just to be safe.

* * *

When ChiChi finished the strength-training regimen Master Roshi had assigned her, she fell back onto the capsule house's floor, generating a loud thud on impact. Bulma didn't run out to check on her this time. The older girl had grown accustomed to the sound of ChiChi's exhaustion by day three of their journey and left all of Roshi's students to their own devices. ChiChi would have appreciated a pitcher of cold water or towel right about now though. Especially when she remembered she still had weapon drills from Son Gohan.

Once she retrieved her Bo staff, she braced herself and stepped out into the scorching desert morning. If she hadn't already been sweating before, the heat rising from the sand would have seen to that. Shielding her eyes from the sun's harsh glare, her ears picked up the sounds of Yamcha and Krillin sparring. Both of the older boys were wearing weighted clothes just as she was but the fluidity and speed of their movements gave no indication of it.

ChiChi vowed she'll catch up to them sooner rather than later and immediately began to go through the stances Son Gohan had shown her. She swung and jabbed and struck air again and again, grim determination etched all over her face.

That taste of stew had reminded her of everything she'd lost, of everything she was fighting for: Home. The knowledge that she was not going to be alone in her battle against the Red Ribbon Army was comforting but she did not want to rely too much on them. She had to extinguish the fires of Frypan Mountain on her own, her father said so. Only then will she be able to truly mourn him.

But until then, she was going to do everything she can to keep the Dragon Balls and Bulma from the Red Ribbon Army. Even if it meant dragging the older girl back to the Diablo desert where ChiChi could keep a proper eye on her.

* * *

Krillin was a good-natured kid. He was friendly and easy going, always ready with a smile or a joke, and he was _especially_ nice to the ladies. There were times his competitive side got the better of him but it was never for long and whatever rivalry he got involved in never became malicious or bitter. All the same, he was only human and couldn't help but envy Yamcha.

It's not that he didn't like the guy but Krillin was short and, thanks to his monastic background, needed to shave his head. People liked him or at least seemed more willing to drop their guard around him but that was because he made them laugh.

Just once it would be nice if, and this was all _completely hypothetical_ and not something that _actually happened_ a couple of weeks ago, the cute girl at the vegetable stand would approach him to ask if _he_ was single rather than his tall friend with the scar. (He told her yes, as much out of honesty as spite because he had a running bet with Son Gohan about how long Yamcha could hold a conversation with a girl before high-tailing. So far, Krillin was winning.)

When Bulma sauntered up to him during one of their pit stops, the monk could only assume she wanted him to do her chores for her. To his surprise she was already finished and just wanted some company. To his amazement she actually wanted to know "What's your story?"

"My story? You wanna know about me and not Yamcha?"

She looked thoughtful for a moment and Krillin wished he'd kept his mouth shut. If she hadn't been interested in his friend the first time, she probably was now.

"Well, I wanna know about you both. I figured I'd ask tall, dark, and bashful about himself later. When he stops acting like I'm gonna shove a knife into his kidney or something." Bulma fixed those wide aqua blue eyes of hers on him and gave him one of those dazzling smiles she made look so effortless.

 _Huh._ Krillin thought. _Miracles do happen._

"So uh, what exactly do you wanna know?"

"I dunno. How about how you ended up in the desert with Roshi as your sensei?"

Krillin straightened himself up to his full height, cleared his throat and began, "I started out in a monastery but it wasn't what I was hoping it would be so I left. Went looking for a martial arts master and when I heard about Master Roshi and his, um," he fidgeted, "Entrance fee, I decided I'd study under him."

"What was his entrance fee?"

Krillin felt his cheeks burn at the memory of the dirty magazines he had to swipe from newsstands. Rather than tell her the truth, he babbled, "It's a secret, only students are permitted to know, and anyway he stopped asking for it once..." he stopped, sighed, and rubbed the back of his shaved head.

"Once what?" Bulma demanded, clearly getting impatient.

"It's _my_ story. I'll tell it how I wanna. Anyway, I've been studying under sensei for over half a year now but we've only been staying at the desert for the past two months. When I started learning, he was still living on this island in the middle of the ocean. Most martial arts masters unless they go commercial tend to live a simple life. It was a small house, had surprisingly great reception, but nothing fancy. Oh and there was Turtle."

"What kind of person calls themselves Turtle?"

"Someone who's an actual turtle," Krillin said wryly. "Master Roshi's best friend was an old sea turtle who lived with him and, get this, actually helped with the training."

"You're bullshitting me."

"No! I'm not! Turtle knew a lot of things about self-defense and yeah you had to wait a bit for him to finish explaining, but that was patience training too."

"So where is he? Don't tell me he's _still_ on his way to the desert."

"I'm getting to that," Krillin frowned and here he looked uncomfortable. "About two months ago, Son Gohan dropped by the island to warn us that the Red Ribbon Army was after the Dragon Balls. He got chased out of his mountain home by some blond guy but Son Gohan sent him packing."

The short boy stared down at his cloth slippers, "Turns out the Red Ribbon Army was following Son Gohan and they tracked him all the way to Master Roshi's. The blond guy wasn't there though. Some jerk named Dark was calling the shots. And he..." Krillin shuddered at the memory.

 _"You have until the count of three to tell me where your Dragon Balls are before I start getting_ serious _," Dark warned, his gun cocked and the safety off. His men had fanned out, flanking Kame House and its inhabitants to ensure no one would think of escaping into the water._ _"Well?"_

 _No one spoke._ _Neither Roshi nor Gohan looked worried about the weaponry. The two seniors only_ looked _like helpless old men but they both had enough Ki in them to render bullets useless. It was only when their gaze fell on Krillin and the sea turtle hiding behind him that concern flickered across their features._

 _Unfortunately, Dark proved more observant than Krillin gave him credit for._ _He fired the gun and Turtle sported a hole in his head. "It'll be the toddler next."_

 _"I am fifteen years old!" Krillin yelled._

 _"You are?" Dark goggled, "Damn kid, you really got the short end of the heredity stick, didn't you? I mean, just look at y-" he was suddenly airborne from an uppercut to the jaw. And he stayed in the air for a long time as Roshi struck and struck and struck. The turtle hermit's weedy limbs were like whips, each blow a resounding_ crack _as Roshi juggled the officer until the man was little more than pureed fat and broken bones held together by skin._

 _One of the other soldiers tried to fire on Roshi but a chop from the edge of Son Gohan's hand on the man's neck changed his mind._

 _Krillin blinked and the next thing he knew, the squad of armed men were on the ground in various states of pain._

 _After an angry grunt and dropping an elbow point into Dark's gut, Roshi let the man plummet. Sand fountained where the officer fell and of course Krillin was the only one from Kame House to be covered in grit afterwards._

 _Roshi and Son Gohan spoke to each other in hushed tones before Krillin's sensei finally snapped out, "We're leaving for my Sister's. Krillin, pack everything you can into a container capsule. I'll carry Turtle. We'll give him a proper burial later."_

"Turns out Baba was already waiting for us at the mainland. She said the best place to hide was in the Diablo desert and that's where we ran into Yamcha," Krillin finished and leaned back to stare at nothing in particular. Before an awkward silence could descend, he turned to Bulma.

Apparently, Krillin didn't need silence to make things awkward. He would do a damn fine job of it on his own by asking her "So, what's _your_ story?"

* * *

Between hours of driving and numerous pit stops, Bulma would have thought the journey to West City would have taken them longer. They'd kept off the main highway and stuck to dirt roads thanks to Baba's warning. But it had been smooth sailing for the four of them and Bulma was starting to think that the old crone wasn't as infallible as she made herself out to be.

She shouldn't complain, really. They made good time despite taking the long way and their destination was only a day away. But something nagged at the back of her mind that she shouldn't lower her guard. Something was _bound_ to go wrong.

Or Yamcha's insistent pessimism had rubbed off on her. She hadn't expected it to happen, considering how the older teen could barely carry a conversation with her at the start of the journey. His shyness had been cute at first but the lack of eye contact got old the third time. They finally managed to get a real discussion going between them when Bulma made good on her promise to give Yamcha's desert buggy a look-over.

 _It took all her self-control not to tell the guy his precious ride was better off as a compacted cube and shipped off to be recycled. The engine, the fuel tank, the exhaust ports, the suspension system, basically with the exception of the chassis,_ everything _needed a replacement. Kami only knew how Yamcha managed to keep it running._

 _"This is quite a_ vintage _model, huh?" she said._

 _"You don't need to sugar-coat with me. I know my ride's_ old _," he said._

 _"Ancient is more like it," she teased. "Why haven't you replaced anything?"_

 _"I might as well buy a new buggy with how much that would cost me," he said._

 _"Okay but why haven't you gotten it cleaned? I mean, seriously, what's with all the cat hair?"_

 _Whatever connection they'd slowly begun to form was quickly lost as Yamcha's expression turned stormy and he folded his arms across his chest. "That's none of your business."_

Yamcha was less chatty after that. Not that he was chatty to start with but even Krillin was getting the brush off whenever he tried talking to his friend. Bulma eventually asked the former monk what Yamcha's deal was but that proved to be a dead end.

"It's not my story to tell, sorry," Krillin apologized.

* * *

 **A/N:** According to the Dragonball Wiki, Akira Toriyama said Yamcha and Ox King were the best cooks in the series and that bit of trivia demanded I write it into the fic. Sorry, not sorry. To make up for the lack of action in this update, you get a fairly lengthy one and the least tragic backstory of the cast!


	17. Coincidence

**Coincidence**

They'd long left the sandy dunes of Diablo desert behind for grassy plains the closer the four teenagers got to West City. And it wasn't long before the wilderness gradually gave way to civilization and the air-car no longer zoomed over dirt paths but the main road.

The reality that she was going to have to say goodbye to ChiChi and the boys only sunk in when they reached the city's outskirts, the car coasting to a halt onto the shoulder in the road. Her blue eyes stared at the large sign welcoming motorists to _West City: Home of Capsule Corp maker of the Dynocaps._

Bulma felt her chest constrict as she read the greeting and hastily wiped at the tears stinging her eyes. _No time to cry_ , she told herself. She had a lot of work ahead of her but surely she had some time to spare to thank the three, and maybe do an _I told you so_ over how she could have gotten here on her own.

"What's say we all have one final meal together?" Bulma suggested, "One where we _don't_ do the cooking for a change?"

"That actually sounds good," ChiChi said with a small smile.

"Too bad we can only afford fast food," Yamcha said.

"Oh come on, Yamcha, isn't the company what's really important during meals?" Krillin, ever the optimist, said with a chuckle.

From the reflection in the rearview mirror, Bulma watched the scarred teen open his mouth to protest. When their eyes met, Yamcha darted his gaze away and settled back in his seat with a soft, "Yeah."

"That's settled then! And I know this great place," she declared with a wink and revved the air-car's engine.

* * *

They had take-out that Bulma footed the bill for despite ChiChi's refusal (Bulma chalked it up to it being a pride thing,) and which they ate in the car. She would have preferred to actually sit down and eat at the restaurant but she noticed that some of the wait staff were giving her funny looks. And not in the _flirting-to-get-a- big-tip_ way.

Baba's warning to be careful came rushing to the forefront of her mind and it must have occurred to her friends' as well because all three were being extra vigilant. Now and again, from the corner of her eye, Bulma saw ChiChi reach for her bo staff. And in the rearview mirror, both Krillin and Yamcha would bunch their hands into fists whenever another vehicle drove up beside theirs.

"Guys, I appreciate the caution but you're gonna make _us_ look suspicious if you keep acting like that," she said through grit teeth that tried to pass itself off as a smile.

And when they got to Capsule Corporation, Bulma slammed on the brakes. Aqua blue eyes stared in disbelief at the police tape cordoned on the compound's gate. Two police officers stepped out from behind the gatepost, pistols drawn.

"This is a restricted area! Get on outta here!"

"The fuck I will! This is my home!" Bulma yelled back defiantly.

One of the men removed his sunglasses and squinted at the blue-haired teen. His partner had disappeared back behind the gatepost and reappeared holding a photograph. Together they studied the image then the young woman in the driver's seat.

Finally, "Holy shit! It's actually her! Our apologies, Ms. Briefs, please come in!"

The tape tore as the automatic gates swung open to grant her entrance, the strips fluttering in the wind as Bulma drove past. The vehicle coasted down the long stretch of driveway where more armed men in uniform loitered about, chatting or smoking until they spotted her approach. Then they were suddenly at attention.

"I don't like the look of this," Yamcha said beneath his breath, suspicion edging his words. No one in the air-car disagreed.

When they finally came to a stop, the four were escorted inside Capsule Corp and told, "Wait here while I get the Chief Inspector." The tension in the policeman's stance made it clear it wasn't a request.

The blue-haired girl glowered but nodded wordlessly, heart racing in her chest and threatening to jump to her throat at a moment's notice. The only thing that kept her from throwing a massive bitch-fit and helped maintain her composure was the weight of ChiChi's hand in hers and the shadows Krillin and Yamcha cast over her.

They didn't wait long when a bald man with a thin mustache came to greet them. He was smiling affably while he adjusted the insignia brooches pinned to the shoulder-boards of his jacket.

"I'm not saying anything without my lawyer present," the former heiress declared and quickly added, "And neither will _they_."

"Your lawyer should be here shortly, Ms. Briefs." He was surprisingly soft-spoken for someone so tall. Still smiling, he extended his hand to her, "I'm the officer in charge of this investigation. I'm Chief Inspector Black."

* * *

 **A/N:** I just really like puns. Sorry, not sorry. Thank you to all the new followers, new favs, and of course the reviews! Updates are gonna take a while because of the holidays.


	18. Discourse

**Discourse**

Chief Inspector Black didn't try to intimidate any of the four teenagers nor did he threaten them with anything. In fact, he even suggested that they all come inside where it was more comfortable.

"I understand that this is a very difficult time for you, Miss Briefs," he said, marching ahead of the blue-haired teen as armed men escorted her three companions into separate rooms. They arrived at the living room, the coffee table buried underneath a stack of dossiers and folders. "Losing your family can't be easy, and to be a suspect in their murder-"

"I did not kill my parents!" Bulma said hotly, fists clenched in outrage.

The Chief Inspector wordlessly nodded. "I'm sure you will be cleared of those charges but I'm afraid there's more bad news. Our investigation has revealed some rather unfortunate evidence that the Capsule Corporation is involved with the Red Ribbon Army."

"Like hell we're involved with those psychos. We're _victims_ of the Red Ribbon Army!" Bulma opened her mouth to say more. But then she remembered her declaration of silence until a lawyer was present and her mouth promptly shut.

Black picked up a thick folder and opened it. "This sort of thing must come as a shock, learning that your father was helping a militia like the Red Ribbon Army. Or it's denial. But you can't argue with the facts. The capsule inventory indicates numerous capsules containing military-grade weapons are missing. Then there's the R&D proposals for capsules that would contain military-grade vehicles including but not limited to tanks, stealth planes, bunker-busters..." he trailed off, looking up from the list to study the look of disbelief on Bulma's face.

"There are other things, more schematics and research notes but the important details are missing. Likely stolen. The Red Ribbon Army must have gotten what they wanted and silenced your father. Your mother was just in the wrong place at the wrong time." Not once did Black's tone ever waver from calm and amiable.

"I want to see those files!" Bulma demanded.

"I could but your lawyer must be present for that. If you're impatient, you _could_ waive your rights to a lawyer," he said with a small, friendly smile.

She glared at him and instead asked, "Why did you separate me from my friends?"

"Corroboration," was all Black said. "I will be interviewing them all to assess their level of involvement. Depending on their answers, they can either be proven innocent or guilty."

"Guilty of what?"

"That information would be between them and the law, Miss Briefs. But if they're proven guilty, they may never see daylight again."

A beat.

"Unless," Black began.

"Unless what?"

"Unless you cooperate with us, Miss Briefs. It's no secret that you're a talented genius. I'm sure we could use someone with your knowledge and skills to help us in our goals. I can't guarantee that your cooperation will absolve your family, but you can at the very least ensure the safety of your friends."

"I..."

* * *

 **A/N:** Not quite back with writing. Thank you for understanding.


	19. Debunked

**Debunked**

"I..." Bulma began, hands balling into fists on the fabric of her pants as she mulled over Black's offer. Could she? _Should_ she? Helping the police would protect her friends and she would be personally involved in clearing her family's name.

But Baba's warning came to the forefront of her mind. What was it the old fortune teller said exactly? That they should be careful in West City about what exactly?

"Black," Bulma uttered and her eyes hardened flint sharp.

"Yes, Miss Briefs?" Chief Inspector Black pressed as that smile of his widening into a smug grin.

"I need to use the bathroom," she flatly said.

The older man looked surprised and coughed. "Alright, but once you return you need to give me your answer." He called for an escort but Bulma was already walking out of the living room and down the hallway to her bedroom, ignoring Black's yell of "Miss Briefs!"

"This is _my_ home, I know my way around," she said with the dismissive haughtiness that the Capsule Corp heiress had mastered. An armed guard quickly caught up to her but made no motion to actually restrain her.

Bulma did her best not to react at the state of the rooms she passed. She knew the police were investigating things but she didn't think ransacking the place was part of it. Alarm bells were ringing in her head as the circumstances of Chief Inspector Black and his claims about the case just didn't add up.

When she arrived at her bedroom, the guard tried to enter after her. "Excuse you! This is a _lady's_ bedroom. Some privacy!" she snapped and slammed the door in his face.

Her bedroom looked like it was untouched, which meant it was just as much as a mess as she left it. She felt the slightest bit offended that no one thought to investigate _her_ room. But that was actually a blessing, wasn't it? It meant that no one knew about the control panel she and her father had installed in her room.

Cracking her knuckles, Bulma began to make sure it was in working condition. Accessing her home's surveillance system, she was expecting that it had been disconnected. Fortunately it was still active, allowing her to find where her friends were being held.

Knowing that, she began to check the footage from the past weeks. The more she watched, the less credible Black's story became. And when she came to Black and his men's arrival, she saw some of them were wearing Red Ribbon armbands.

"Son of a bitch!" she yelled.

The guard outside knocked, "Ma'am?"

"I-I'm fine! I just found out that I, uh, I need some feminine supplies!"

"Please make use of your right to remain silence, Ma'am!" the man quickly said.

Bulma rolled her eyes at the guard's disgust before returning her gaze at the control panel, trying to keep her temper in check. How dare Black try to use her friends to blackmail her. How dare Black try to trick her into assisting the Red Ribbon Army. How _dare_ he try that in her own home and on her own turf.

She switched from her home footage to that of the Capsule Production Facility and felt her stomach knot. There were Red Ribbon soldiers piling weapons onto a conveyer belt for encapsulation. When she rewound the video and saw the employees being slaughtered bile rose in the back of her throat. She clamped her hands over her mouth in an effort not to throw up or bawl.

 _This is all my fault,_ she thought. She should have seen to the rest of Capsule Corp before she fled, shut the factories down, locked up the facilities or something. Anything would have been better than allowing the Red Ribbon Army use of the facilities.

She had to make this right. But first she had to let her friends know they had to get out.

"Ma'am, are you finished dealing with your, er, red visitor?" the guard asked from behind the door.

 _Kami damn it_ , she wished she had more time. Maybe she'd be able to come up with a plan that would guarantee her friends' safety.

"Gimme five more minutes!" she answered as she switched the monitors back to her friends. She would just have to trust them when she activated her house's intercom and her voice blared out "Guys, the police are working with the Red Ribbon Army!"

Bulma heard the man outside her room curse before attempting to kick down the door. She prayed that her friends would be able to find her before she was taken captive. Damn it, she wished she hadn't fully cleaned out her bedroom of weapons when she first fled. She could use a handgun or a bazooka right now.

She glanced at the window and considered escaping through there but before she could even open it, a body was flung into her room with a crash. The body that thudded to a halt was that of the guard. And standing in the doorway was "Chi Chi!"

Chi Chi was brandishing the staff Son Gohan had given her, "Yamcha's getting the car ready. Let's go before the rest of the soldiers reach us."

"How are we supposed to get out?"

An explosion rocked the compound.

"The boys know some handy moves," Chi Chi said, leaping into a high kick to knock out a Red Ribbon guard.

"O-okay," Bulma nodded, getting to her feet and making a run for it with Chi Chi quickly catching up. The pair managed to make it outside just as Yamcha pulled up with Krillin opening the door for the girls.

As the older boy stepped on the gas, Bulma leaned forward to point out a building in the distance, "We gotta stop by the Capsule Factory first!"

"What? Why?" Krillin began but was quickly cut off by Bulma.

"I'm not leaving my family's factory in the Red Ribbon creep's clutches," the heiress snapped.

"Alright, alright," the bald boy said settling back as Yamcha sharply turned the wheel and headed for the aforementioned facility.

"Krillin, you know what to do," Yamcha said when several guards aimed their weapons at the incoming vehicle.

The bald boy glanced back at Bulma and Chi Chi before grinning, "Leave it to me." He leaned out of the window, legs anchoring himself to the car, and took a deep breath.

Bulma stared in confusion when Krillin brought his hands to the center of his face, angled his head, quickly warned the girls to close their eyes, and yelling out "Taiyoken!"

The light that shone off of Krillin blinded the soldiers long enough for Yamcha to drive straight through them.

"Yamcha, get me to the back of the building," Bulma ordered.

"Why don't we just ram the front door?" he countered.

"We're not going inside," Bulma said knowingly. Once they reached the back of the factory, Bulma leapt out of the car with Chi Chi and Krilling keeping watch. The blue-haired teen accessed a hidden panel and briefly prayed that nobody alive was still inside the building.

"Hey, Bulma," Krillin began, "Not to rush you or anything but I can see a whole bunch of tanks and cars headed our way."

Pressing a sequence of buttons, there was a loud pop, and the entire factory imploded into a capsule that was the size of Bulma's arm.

"I don't know if I should be happy or upset that Papa never got around to updating this," she said beneath her breath before she, Chi Chi, and Krillin all piled back into the car. "Okay, floor it, Yamcha!"

The four fled from the site, barely escaping the fleet of Red Ribbon vehicles.

* * *

 **A/N:** Managed to get a little bit over the writer's block. Here's hoping it continues. As always, reviews aren't expected but appreciated and loved.


	20. Initiative

**Initiative**

"Shouldn't be too long now," Baba said as she dealt another card from the deck.

"Oh yeah, come to papa!" Roshi said, motioning for his sister to give him another card.

Baba didn't need clairvoyant powers to know that her brother had two pairs while Son Gohan was waiting for a flush, she could read the two old men well enough to know their tells. "Not what I was referring to, brother," she clarified, "Brace yourselves for an earful in three. Two. One."

"You are the worst fortune teller EVER!" Bulma's shriek rang throughout the cavern.

"You're not the first to say that, girlie," Baba said as she tossed her terrible, _terrible_ hand away with relief to face down the young woman's wrath. "I take it my warning came true."

"Why didn't you tell me about the Red Ribbon Army using my family's capsule factory sooner?"

"I've seen what happens if I did, and all of you," Baba gestured to the three teenagers standing behind Bulma before sweeping her arms to include Roshi and Son Gohan, "Would have spent weeks making plans and bickering over what exactly you would do. Meanwhile, the Red Ribbon Army would have continued amassing their firepower unchecked. But you kids went and put a stopper to that operation, haven't you?"

Bulma seethed and levelled a glare that would have normally intimidated anyone into caving to her whims at Baba. "So that's it? We're nothing more than your personal gophers?"

It wasn't that Baba was completely devoid of empathy for the people in the cavern. She'd seen their loss, their sorrow, their pain, but the old woman had seen the future where she told them too much. It was not one she wanted to live out.

Cruel as it may seem but the fortune teller not only shrugged but went so far as to taunt the four teenagers, "And if I told you that you were, what are you kiddos gonna do about it?"

Baba could only say and do so much. There were only two ways this would play out and it all rested on the shoulders of the four teenagers standing before her. She watched as Bulma stormed off and Chi Chi was quick to follow. Krillin and Yamcha looked at each other first before going after them.

"What was that about, sis?" Roshi asked.

Sometimes it really was no fun knowing the future. Baba turned to face the old martial artist, "Either we're gonna get this show on the road or I've just doomed us all. But for now, it's more of a waiting ga-"

"We're done waiting!" Bulma cut in.

"What do you mean?" Baba asked, unable to stop her smile from spreading.

"We can't be the only people fighting against the Red Ribbon Army," Chi Chi added, stepping up to stand beside Bulma.

"There's bound to be more resistance groups out there, we just have to find them," Krillin continued with enthusiasm.

"I assume you young'uns have a plan?" Roshi said, folding his arms across his chest as he pondered on what his students were saying.

"Not yet, but we will."

You could have bent steel around the conviction in the teenagers' words. Together with Son Gohan and Roshi, they began to discuss what would be their next course of action.

* * *

 **A/N:** Sometimes, a really short update is all I got in me. As always, thank you for your reviews. They mean a lot!


	21. Anecdote

**Anecdote 2**

One hundred years ago, the Saiyans began their rebellion against Frieza.

It was not the grand, universe-wide assault the warrior race craved. At least, not _yet_. One day, however, one day they would rise against the Cold Empire and face Frieza head-long. The King planned that all able-bodied Saiyans, no matter how low their power level, would serve a purpose in the future battle, even if it was as humble a role as cannon fodder.

The King knew he had to start small otherwise he risked the lizard tyrant's notice. He started in the shift of customs and the altering of his people's practices, a slow creep into the consciousness and beliefs of planet Vegeta's populace. Infant purging missions were stopped. Squad loyalty and interaction between the warrior ranks was not only encouraged but enforced.

The changes went unnoticed by Frieza, so long as the Saiyans continued to purge and conquer worlds at his command, what the monkeys chose to do with their offspring was of no concern to him.

Of course, despite these being the King's decrees, the changes did not sit well with every Saiyan warrior. The Elites in particular resented the practice, believing it to be coddling the weak at the expense of the strong. And when a handful of low ranked warriors, granted the opportunity to live and realize their potential, demonstrated that not only were they in the same league but even _surpassed_ the Elites the resentment deepened and festered.

Kakkarot started life as a weakling by Saiyan standards. If he'd been born the century prior, the measure of his power level would have him sent off on an infant purging mission, written off as a loss until he proved he could survive the alien world.

A fact that amused Prince Vegeta and something Nappa brought up every chance he could since their journey to Earth. Of the brothers it was Radditz who seemed visibly bothered by the Elites' condescending treatment of the younger Saiyan these past months. The long-maned warrior, however, could do nothing about it. Kakkarot remained ever cheerful. He openly acknowledged his weakness and promised to one day prove himself useful to the Saiyan empire.

This only further amused the Prince. So much so that whenever they made planet-fall and spent more than a day in dealing with the indigenous life-forms, the Prince invited the youngest Saiyan to serve as a warm up before properly training against Nappa and Radditz.

It was an honor for Kakkarot. And while initially apprehensive of getting the absolute shit beaten out of him when there were no regen tanks available, he gradually learned to keep up. And it was around this time that Nappa began acting testy with him.

Normally he could understand why Nappa drove a fist or a knee into him, followed by an indignant growl of "How _dare_ you question a Saiyan Elite!" or something to that effect. Except, Kakkarot noticed that these punishments were being doled out almost exclusively to him and for the smallest of things, like offering the choice portions of their hunted game to the Prince.

The young Saiyan didn't really understand why the older man was so irritable with _him_ specifically. Radditz only ever acknowledged Nappa's treatment of Kakkarot whenever the brothers were alone, usually during reconnaissance.

"You've been on a few missions with Mr. Nappa before, right?" Kakkarot asked as he quietly followed after his brother up a large, tall tree.

Radditz nodded, settling in the center of one of the round, bubble-like leaf clusters high atop the tree.

Equally hidden in a lower cluster, Kakkarot continued, "Is he always this... um..."

"Big of an asshole?" Radditz supplied.

"I was going to say strict," Kakkarot said under his breath. "But your word works too."

There was a soft chuckle and then Radditz's answer, "He is to anyone who isn't an Elite."

"This is that politics thing again, isn't it?"

"Among other things," the long-maned Saiyan said with a smirk. "But he gets particularly nasty with anyone he thinks is a threat."

"But I wouldn't hurt Mr. Nappa! I don't think I could. I mean, you've seen me against Prince Vegeta during our spars. All I could do is block and dodge a little."

Radditz was about to say something before whispering for Kakkarot to be quiet as their scouters suddenly picked up approaching life forms. Peering down from their vantage point, the brothers watched as a group of bipedal insect-like aliens who were carrying woven baskets arrived. They chattered among themselves in a clicking language for a few moments before the scouters managed to translate their conversation about which fruit was best for carapace grooming, the amount of trouble their larva could get into, and other mundane topics. The aliens' power levels displayed on the scouter's eyepiece were near negligible but this could simply mean that _these_ aliens weren't the warriors of the specie.

No words were exchanged between the brothers at this point. Kakkarot simply jumped down with a friendly smile as the scouter translated his chipper "Hey there!"

Some of the insectoids dropped their baskets in alarm while others had the shells on their backs lifting to reveal gossamer wings.

"I don't mean you any harm," Kakkarot said, "Honest, I just wanted to know where-" the rest of his words couldn't be heard above the loud humming of the aliens' vibrating wings.

"You have to listen to me! If you don't, you're going to ha-"

The hum only grew louder and the sky darkened as a swarm of the aliens armed to the mandible with all sorts of blasters and bladed weapons appeared. The alien at the lead charged forward, swung its blade, and came to an abrupt halt. But not by choice.

Kakkarot had the tip of the sword pinched between his fingers. "If you don't surrender, my brother's going to take his turn. And you don't want that."

When the rest of the swarm surrounded him and aimed the muzzles of their blasters at him, Kakkarot couldn't help but sigh in disappointment. He planted his feet and braced himself. He knew what was going to happen next.

A wave of Ki crashed into the swarm, knocking most of the thin insectoids either off their feet or outright unconscious.

"Last chance. All of you. Stand down," Kakkarot ordered, glaring at the alien. The gravity of the situation was somewhat lessened when he added a "Please?"

There was a shrill cry of rage, "No one in their right mind will negotiate with you vile Saiyans!"

Another wave of Ki, stronger than the first, quickly followed. The last of the aliens thudded to the ground.

"I tried to reason with them," Kakkarot murmured.

"That you did. And it's more than what they would have normally gotten," Radditz said before sending a report to Nappa of the encounter.

"Are we going to have to kill them?"

"Not this again, Kakkarot," Radditz groaned and rolled his eyes, "You know that that's up to the Prince."

"Yeah but given their power level and the state of their technology, they're probably gonna get purged. Can't we just leave them alone? I mean, maybe the empire can find a different use for-"

Radditz silenced Kakkarot with a fist to the stomach. The older Saiyan growled, "We're Saiyans, Kakkarot. Fighting's in our blood."

"Fighting. Sure. N-not. Slaughtering." Kakkarot wheezed out while he clutched his gut.

Radditz lifted him up by the front of his armor.

"Don't _ever_ talk like that within earshot of Nappa or the Prince or _any_ of the Elites if you don't want to be branded a traitor," the heat in Radditz's low warning was underscored with dread. "You are a Saiyan. You are loyal to the Royal Family and do as ordered. You live and die by their command. Understand?"

No, Kakkarot didn't understand. He didn't understand why being a Saiyan automatically meant you were a killer. Maybe it was because of the blow to the head he suffered when he was a child. Maybe he took after his mother more than his father. He didn't know.

When he didn't answer fast enough for his brother's liking, Radditz shook him hard enough his vision doubled.

"I said do you understand?" Radditz repeated.

He still didn't. But what he did understand was Raddtiz's unspoken sentiment of _I won't always be there to protect you._

Slowly, wordlessly, Kakkarot nodded and the tension left the older Saiyan's stance. Radditz dropped him just in time for Nappa to bark out Vegeta's decision to "Purge the indigenous race. The planet's going to be used for resource harvesting."

"Understood," Radditz said, eyeing his brother warily.

Kakkarot said nothing but he nodded all the same. He was a Saiyan. He was loyal to the Royal Family. And he will live and die by their command. He just wished there was a way for him to have a say in missions and said as much to his brother.

Radditz wouldn't look him in the eye when he spoke, "Get stronger so you can rise in the ranks. If we become Elites, our words and decisions will have more weight."

Again, Kakkarot said nothing and nodded. But now there was a fierce determination in his eyes that he didn't have earlier.

* * *

 **A/N:** My hand slipped and this came out. I figured we could do with a quick look at what the Saiyans were up to in the story. Got the next few chapters outlined. Here's hoping I can stick to an actual schedule this time. As always, reviews are appreciated and loved!


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